Che Fu was standing in a supermarket queue back in 1998 when the checkout operator said to him, "We're studying you today."
This was just after he released his debut album 2bS. Pacific and Che was like, "What do you mean bro'?"
"We're doing a paper on you," explained the cocky checkout lad.
A little rattled, Che asked: "Dude, are you serious? Is that at un-i-vers-ity?
"And from that moment on I've taken a lot of care and effort making music," says Che today, with a lovely big smile.
He's not too worried about what people think of the music. He reckons that comes easy. It's the lyrics that are the challenge.
"That's labour-intensive shit," he says, in his soothing drawl. "It's so hard to write something that says some shit. Some cat's gonna read it, study you, and break you down."
This half Niuean, half Maori musician makes the kind of hip-hop that lovers of Brooke Fraser, Coldplay, and the like, can lap up. And the "hip-hop heads" - that's how Che describes those who take their hip-hop more seriously - can't resist it either.
His new album Beneath the Radar is not as immediately inviting as the soothing soul of Misty Frequencies and Fade Away off 2001's The Navigator.
That album, which sold more than 50,000 copies well and truly made him Aotearoa hip-hop's first household name.
Only this cuddly looking man sitting across from me at the yum cha table, about to chomp a piece of curried squid, could dish up something like Beneath The Radar.
It is experimental (the unsettling ET Research), fun (the bouncy Not That Special and first single 2D), and, as always, succulent and smooth (the romantic Mysterious Vibe).
And even on its darker, more hardcore moments, like Mock Battle and Flaxmat Theory, you still get the feeling it will appeal.
He has a knack for appealing to the masses. As a hip-hop artist he proved that back in 1996 as the voice behind this country's first major hip-hop hit, Chains, with DLT.
Most think he's a chilled-out rapper-cum-sweet-soul-singer. But really, he's quite staunch in a shy and non-bullying kind of way.
He's a devout Rastafarian: "A lot of people think it's just dreadlocks and weed. But that's just a stereotype, when really, there's all these historical, factual, theological things within the style of Bible study that the Rastas follow."
On the topic of Supergroove, he's staunch. He's no longer silent about how badly his tenure with the band ended in 1996. He got the boot. Oh well.
That same year he went on to record Chains which signalled the start of a successful solo career, while Supergroove, who never regained the soul that Che brought to the band, fizzled and folded.
And then there's his family. He's a staunch family man. When the conversation gets off music, the main talk is about family and sport - the Warriors, the All Blacks, and whether Che is going to referee his son Loxmyn's league game on the weekend.
You might remember Loxmyn; he was the young fella in Che's backpack on the cover of The Navigator.
Since that album came out, Che and his "girl" Ange have had two more boys, Marley and Jeru.
After The Navigator, and after more than 12 years of making music non-stop - from high school in the Low Down Dirty Blues Band, to Supergroove, to Chains, to his solo career - the time was right to take a break and spend quality time with his family.
"We just thought it would be time well spent if we stayed at home, because when the record and tour starts happening it's going to take me out of the picture [and] we haven't had this many children until now.
"And with children you do have to be consistent to make for a stable upbringing. Musicians can't really give that because I liken our style of work to seasonal work - sometimes it's full on; you're not going to see me, and sometimes it's just me on the couch forever."
The break did him good and during this time he listened to a lot of music.
His friend, Haz - DJ Hazadus ("My man Hazadus on my back like a gang patch," he says on Flaxmat Theory) - gave Che a pile of records that were some of the best club tunes from recent years.
"I had a listen and that's when I thought, 'If this was my shit then what would I be doing in about a year-and-a-half, or two years?' And that was my approach to try and come up with something different for this album."
But making something futuristic relies on the listener having an open mind to get into it in the first place.
Hearing the wonky bleeps and woozy guitar of opening track Control Tower, or the first awkward strains of ET Research, could put off those expecting Fade Away.
"But I like to think, a year from now, they'll get it. Because I don't want to slow myself down. If I'm not pushing myself then I'm not enjoying the music, and if I'm going to put it out there, obviously part of it is to sell records, but I don't want to sell my ass either, so I like to think when I put out something, my whole heart is in it.
"I kinda love music," he deadpans.
"So I want to be sincere about it. From a writer's perspective, when I was writing it I didn't want to get bored. That's why a lot of it comes across as if it may have been experimental - because it pretty much was.
"And another take I had on this record was that I was after what was happening at the next sort of level, and in hip-hop we call that 'Next'.
"We're after next. We want next. So next, to me, is like that thing that you don't know what it is but it's better than what is happening now."
He can sound like a regular little Kanye West - world hip-hop's current mastermind and biggest ego.
But Che Fu isn't a man with a big head. He just does things his own way.
"There's no shape or form to it but I want it to be on that next shit where I get the listener thinking, 'Wow, what was that?' And that was the drive for making this album."
In getting the music to the next stage he does much looking back.
Beneath the Radar is riddled with historical references. In D&D he drops in references to 19th-century European colonialism in the Pacific "just to see if anyone is listening". That song also includes a sample from the song Dragons and Demons by New Zealand reggae band Herbs who "formed in Grey Lynn so they were kind of like extended family", says Che.
The influence of Stevie Wonder - long apparent in his singing style - is heavily pronounced on some of Beneath the Radar.
"I pretty much ripped off all his shit," he laughs.
"That was through my dad [Tigilau Ness] who was a big Stevie fan. And I grew up in and around his music, as well as the reggae stuff. It was Stevie Wonder that he would play to me when I was in the cot to put me to sleep."
And if you thought Che Fu was born with that sweet soul voice then you're wrong. Stevie Wonder - well, Stevie Wonder tapes - taught Che to sing. In the early days of Supergroove he just played guitar and then later got the opportunity to sing.
"But the thought of me standing up there fronting a band put the nerves into me. So for a year I did a lot of personal training."
This guy, who is as recognisable as Scribe and one of the highest-profile Pacific Islanders in the country, might sound responsible but he shies away from being labelled a spokesperson for his people.
"A social commentator from the point of being a songwriter, maybe. But I just see myself as a songwriter. As far as a spokesperson for the people. No. I'm just a guy with a recorder, who records himself and writes some stuff down."
He knows his form of crossover hip-hop is frowned upon by some purists.
"But when it came to that crossroad on my first record, I just thought to myself, with all my heart I love singing, and with all my heart I love MCing. So I'm not going to bullshit myself.
"Flax Mat Theory deals with it. We're like a flax mat, there's all these interwoven categories, and that's our theory. We do so many things, we sing, we rhyme, we scratch, we got the band, there's all these things and we like to put it together."
But on Beneath the Radar his love for the "male-orientated side" of hip-hop does come through a little more. However, he is saving most of this bravado for a side project he is working on with his crew, The Villagers, where he will just MC, rather than sing.
He says it might freak some people out but battle MCing is a part of hip-hop he enjoys.
"I love the four elements of hip-hop [graffiti, turntablism, rap, break dancing]. I'm well versed in that, and the thing with MCing, I like it. And if we're talking about battling, yeah, I like to battle.
"To me it's like a game of chess, or a card game. I like certain games and that's a game that I like. Essentially that's what hip-hop was, an [alternative] for kids who were in gangs and fighting.
"Here were four art forms to get that energy out, to get that aggressive, negative energy out, allowing you to go up against someone and both of you would be physically okay at the end. That's one of the cool things about hip-hop. If you really know about the history it's the thing that young men would do so they wouldn't go and shoot each other."
But hip-hop, says Che, is not just about venting. He likens the genre to the Renaissance.
"You know, that period of time when Michelangelo and all those other cats were trying to outdo each other, and some of the greatest art known to man came out of that. It was just guys trying to outdo each other. That's like this hip-hop thing, it's like a modern Renaissance."
Che Fu - modern day renaissance man
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