Tio Massing performing on day two of Womad NZ in New Plymouth. Photo / NZ Herald
Tio Massing performing on day two of Womad NZ in New Plymouth. Photo / NZ Herald
OPINION
Tio, DakhaBrakha and WITCH gave some of the strongest performances of the festival. And with themes of freedom, independence and indigeneity underpinning much of the music at Womad NZ, peaceful protest seen throughout the weekend around the inclusion of Ziggy Marley as the headline act, and allegiances of all kinds expressed by attendees — some even ignoring the no-flag rule — it’s a stark reminder that music is never apolitical.
A core part of New Zealand’s music calendar and a famous and economically important event for Taranaki, Womad NZ returned to New Plymouth. Attendees thronged the verdant Bowl of Brooklands from March 15-17, sharing a relaxed and positive energy throughout the weekend.
Established in 1982, Womad (an abbreviation of World of Music, Arts and Dance) bills itself as “the world’s music festival” and showcases acts from around the world, and the New Zealand lineup featured 45 international artists.
Politics has always been embedded in music, and now, 42 years later, with identity and ideologies a defining aspect for artists and their audiences, the message behind the music had added gravity.
Tio Massing is one of Vanuatu’s most unique voices and a talented multi-instrumentalist. Playing melancholic folk, his background in reggae — he used to play in the band Dropvkal Groove — surfaces in his solo work, but more influential, and certainly definitive, are the elements tradition and modernity woven through his music, and the bittersweet reflections on life and the natural world.
He played two performances at Womad NZ, both began with an acknowledgment of the land. The show was spare and restrained and he took his time with each song, stretching out the intros and wandering through his compositions at a pace reflective of Ni-Vanuatu time.
Tio Massing during his second performance at Womad NZ. Photo / Elliott Childs
The large audience on the Saturday was nearly doubled by the Sunday show — proof of the word-of-mouth effect of the festival — and on both days they’re transfixed. It’s the last show of a tour. This is his first visit to New Zealand, but he acknowledged its history and cultural ties with the Pacific. “Water doesn’t separate us, it bridges.”
The setlist included Bunbun Myaek, Live Easy and Mumbwe from his acclaimed 2020 album Sorousian. Massing sings in his first language Daakaka, English and Bislama. Some things he can say in his native that he can’t in English. “Singing in Daakaka speaks to people from the Island,” he tells NZ Herald, they feel it. “I’m singing to the people back there.”
There was also a new, reggae-inflected original, Island Man, Island Woman, sung in Bislama. Its lyrics span love, custom, food — laplap and simboro — and conservation. Much of Tio’s music is rooted in respect for nature; Save My Soul is, he says, “Mother Earth speaking”.
His birthplace Ambrym Island inspires much of his music. “It’s a different vibe, different way of living,” says Massing. “That’s where I get energy from.”
He believes an equilibrium between tradition and modernity is important. “There should be a balance between both.”
Tio Massing relaxing before his first performance at Womad NZ. Photo / NZ Herald
He sees Kastom (the term for traditional cultural practices in Vanuatu) is an important, malleable thing. “Kastom shifts and changes, but it’s still Kastom,” he explains, “We have to accept that it will change.”
Geography is a key character in Massing’s music, namechecking locations around the nation’s 83 islands: Ambrym of course, and Ambae, the blue caves of Tanna island, Pango Point — where he lives on the outskirts of Port Vila. He often plays at nakamals (kava lounges). “Just small shows, not like this trip,” he says. “It’s the next step”.
Massing’s message for the Womad audience was one of peace and harmony, but he’s been vocal in the past about issues like corruption and West Papuan independence; releasing songs like Morning Star Bae Kam (not on the WomadNZ setlist).
Freedom is a theme he grapples with. “I can’t free the West Papuans, I can’t free the other brothers and sisters,” he says. “If one country or one culture is not free, then none of us is free.” He applies that lens to the world around him: nature, animals, borders. “You think you’re free on this land, and you go somewhere else, and you’re not.
“No one is free. A culture is not free,” he says. “We’ve got the power to destroy anything.” Music is just one way of fighting for freedom, he says, but audiences hold power. “You chose to listen or not.”
Tio finished his Womad shows with Black Butterfly, about an “imaginary life where we’re all magic,” Tio tells the crowd. “Most of us dream to live free”.
DakhaBrakha brought an explicitly political performance to the stage
Ukrainian folk quartet DakhaBrakha gave one of the strongest, most memorable performances of the festival. The band performed on Saturday night as the sun set on the Brooklands Stage, amplifiying the gravitas of their distinctive sound, all thumping rhythms and hypnotic vocals.
It was their second time at Womad NZ. “Our programme has changed since our last performance, as the war has further affected our lives, and we are compelled to speak about it,” they told NZ Herald last year. “The democratic world faces a tremendous challenge. We all need to realise this and make every effort to punish evil and prevent it from spreading throughout the world.”
Ukrainian quartet DakhaBrakha will perform at Womad 2024.
During the performance accordion player Marko Halanevych dedicated a song to “the people who defend our freedom, who stand with Ukraine.”
DakhaBrakha’s music is overtly and unapologetically political, an element that was dialled up at their next performance, the final of the festival.
Launching into the set with powerful vocals and “Ukraine will win” behind them, their captivating folk, infused with gothic currents and a sense of anti-authoritarian punk, felt different in the daylight. The stage set-up was different too, with the digital screens behind them reinforcing the messages in their music.
Marko Halanevych of DakhaBrakha, performing at Womad NZ on Saturday, March 16. Photo / Ilona Hanne, Stratford Press
Some fans were visually political too, wearing pro-Ukraine T-shirts, or patriotic colours. “Thank you for the Ukrainian flags,” says Halanevych, spotting a full-sized one — breaching the longstanding no-flag rule of Womad — amidst the crowd, who cheered. “We know most people in New Zealand support Ukraine,” Halanevych said, thanking the audience and calling for them to “stand with Ukraine until we win.”
Behind the band, the folk-art inspired animations on the screen gave way to graphic photos of destruction from the Russian invasion and ensuing fighting. Dedicating a song to those who defend their country, images of protesters were followed by a montage of selfies and footage of Ukrainian soldiers. At one point, the message “Russia is a terrorist state” was displayed prominently.
At the end of the show the screen displayed QR codes URLs for donating to charitable foundation Come Back Alive, whose work includes assistance to the Ukrainian military; military medical support initiative Tata Kepler, and Musicians Defend Ukraine.
Ziggy Marley drew considerable controversy and an even larger crowd
Military support has been at the centre of criticism about headlining act Ziggy Marley, but judging by the huge crowd at Marley’s Saturday night show — which opened with his 2003 single Shalom Salaam — many attendees were unbothered by the criticism of the artist.
In February Womad NZ was petitioned by local groups Hala.aotearoa, Artists for Ceasefire and Aotearoa for Ceasefire, calling for the New Zealand event to drop headliner Ziggy Marley, who helped raise US$60 million for the Israel Defence Force in 2018.
Responding to the online petition, signed by more than 2300 people: “Womad NZ stands with all citizens of the world calling for an end to violence and war in the Middle East and all corners of the world,” Womad chairperson Dion Tuuta said in a statement to RNZ. “Womad NZ acknowledges those calling for the removal of Ziggy Marley from the Womad 2024 line-up. We respect their right to express peaceful opposition to Mr Marley’s participation.”
That peaceful opposition was in effect during the weekend.
There was a rally in central New Plymouth on Saturday morning, and several attendees were spotted at Womad later that day. During Marley’s show, a group of protesters silently walked the perimeter of the TSB Bowl Stage. Many placards called for a ceasefire and highlighted the loss of life; to date Israel’s assault in Gaza has killed more than 31,600 Palestinians since October 7, reports Al Jazeera.
Talking to the NZ Herald at Mo’ju’s performance — which was nominated as a way to boycott Marley’s performance — festivalgoer Donna Demente, who was involved in the protest, said she had bought tickets before she knew about Marley’s IDF fundraising. “We understand there may be contractual issues,” she said, but was disappointed by the lack of acknowledgement from Marley and the festival, or admission of regret or wrongdoing. “He could have stood up and said he was wrong.”
Throughout the three-day festival, attendees were regularly spotted wearing free Palestine T-shirts, keffiyeh, accessories with flag motifs. One woman wore a dress designed to resemble the Palestinian flag. Actual flags are banned, unless under 30cm, and explicitly listed on Womad’s rules of “what not to bring” — a longstanding directive from the organisation.
Festivalgoers on day one of Womad NZ. Photo / Frederico Pagola
However that didn’t stop festivalgoers from bringing them in anyway, and a number of flags could be seen on-site throughout the weekend; there was a Ukraine flag in the front row of DakhaBrakha on Saturday night and another the next day, as well as a New Zealand flag in the same audience; a Brazil flag at Gilberto Gil; several attendees celebrating St Patrick’s day on March 17 adorned themselves with large Irish flags; a large Palestinian flag in the crowd at Ziggy Marley was confiscated.
Protest also made an appearance at the festival’s Poetry Slam event with winner Teirangi Klever’s entry Another Poem. It’s about “how I felt tired of having to write another poem about colonisation,” Klever told NZ Herald. “It specifically called out Ziggy and drew parallels with colonisation in New Zealand.”
WITCH now intend to cause harmony not havoc
Freedom and hope underpinned WITCH’s performances too, which were some of the best of the weekend. High-energy and exuberant, the band opened Womad NZ on Friday. “We’ve only been here in our dreams,” charismatic frontman Emmanuel Chanda told the crowd. “Now we’re here in flesh and blood.”
The two high-energy shows were among the most anticipated; WITCH were pioneers of the Zamrock movement — a genre that fused African music with rock music from the UK (Britain had colonial power over Zambia until the country’s independence in 1964).
The band’s debut album was released in 1972. “We didn’t have an industry,” Chanda tells NZ Herald, explaining Zambian musicians face the same issue now. “No record shops, no CD shops.” Gear is hard to secure, and most studios are bedroom operations.
“In our time, you also had the issue of education,” he says. “When it came to learning English and using it, it wasn’t that easy.” Chanda was determined to pursue music, but his family wasn’t supportive. “I ran away from home and I stayed with a band.”
He’d hear international acts on the radio and jukebox — big bands from the US and Europe, Chanda says. “Rarely did we see live bands, maybe once or twice a year.” It was usually at social functions, agricultural shows, and events arranged by mining companies. WITCH would play at community hauls, and Chanda earned the monicker “Jagari” (after Mick Jagger”).
Emmanuel "Jagari" Chanda performing with WITCH on day three of Womad NZ. Photo / Elliott Childs
Where did WITCH play in the early years? “There were some community halls,” he explains, every township had one, where youth could gather for sports and music. “Those were organised as social amenities by the mining conglomerates.”
President Kenneth Kaunda decreed that 95 per cent of radio music be Zambian. “A positive declaration, it opened doors for other musicians,” says Chanda.
“We didn’t have printing companies, so we wrote our posters by hand — drawing the person on the broomstick, the date, the venue and the amount,” explains Chanda.
“We’d record in Zambia, and take the masters to Kenya, and come back with vinyl in plastic bags.”
The band had fans in Malawi, Tanzania, Zimbabwe and Botswana, but by the late 1970s economic and political tensions in Zambia presented additional challenges, including curfews and blackouts in place from 6pm to 6am. The band fell apart, only to be revived in 2012 when LA record label Now Again reissued the band’s catalogue. Their fame grew. In 2017 they toured in Europe, and a 2019 documentary put the band’s largely undocumented story on screen.
Patrick Mwondela, performing with WITCH at Womad NZ. Photo / Ilona Hanne, Stratford Press
The current lineup includes the remaining members of the original band, Chanda and Patrick Mwondela, and a new album, Zango, was released in 2023 — its first in 39 years.
Did they ever think they’d still be doing music all these years later? “No,” says Chanda. “At a certain age they don’t expect you to play music or mingle with the young ones, it’s like going backwards in terms of behaviour.”
Seeing the world in a second WITCH chapter was something they didn’t expect. “Not our wildest dreams,” says Mwondela. “It’s like a resurrection,” adds Chanda.
WITCH has a new meaning now too. “In that day the havoc was real havoc,” explains Mwondela. “Now, the message is we intend to cause healing, harmony and hope,” he says. “We’ve found faith in God, and God is love.”
Music can be a salve, making life easier, more bearable, says Chanda. “The work of an artist is to bring people together, and they should realise that love plays a more important role than anything else,” he explains. “Under our skin, everyone feels pain, everyone feels hungry, everyone wants to be loved.”
Songs are defined by a sense of place
Womad famously bills itself as “the world’s festival”, and while the taxonomy of World Music as a genre has drawn criticism in recent years — considered an ethnocentric marketing term — seeing artists from Senegal, Haiti, Estonia and Angola come together in a Taranaki town feels arguably special, and more so now, grounded in a sense of reality and geographic connection that is increasingly hard to grasp in the flattened sameness of contemporary culture.
South Korean band Leenalchi gave an astounding performance of synthy, sludgy pop, punctuated with falsetto vocals. Genre-blending Bosnian group Dubioza Kolektiv tell a satirical migrant story. Grammy-winning Arooj Aftab’s melancholic music draws from a deep well of Pakistani history.
It’s never been harder to earn a living as a musician, with album sales impacted by streaming and audience attention lured elsewhere; touring remains a way to generate an income, and festivals provide access to a larger audience.
There’s a paradox of viewing Womad as an apolitical festival when music is imbued with struggle. As geopolitics becomes increasingly unstable, how will Womad create space for dialogue and engage with protest on stage and off?
Every artist expressed their joy of being there — many acknowledged the stasis of the pandemic years — and audiences saw in-the-flesh performances that remind you of the magic of live music. Who will be on the lineup next year?
Emma Gleason is the New Zealand Herald’s lifestyle and entertainment deputy editor. Based in Auckland, she covers culture, fashion and media.
