ONO by Moana and the Tribe
If there was a criticism of albums by Moana Maniapoto (Ngāti Tūwharetoa, Te Arawa), it might have been for the stylistic diversity she brought, initially with the Moahunters, then the Tribe from 2003.
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 unapologetically foregrounded in a unique amalgam of consciousness haka-dub and trip-hop.
Ironically then, Ono – her sixth, with diverse indigenous artists from the global village – is the Tribe’s most sonically coherent and integrated.
That’s largely due to Paddy Free (of Pitch Black), an integral member of the Tribe, who gave electronica punch to songs such as the exceptional Whole World’s Watching on the previous album Rima.
It’s been a decade since Rima. Aside from the logistics of recording far-flung artists sharing the issue of their language under threat, music took a back seat to social and political imperatives in Maniapoto’s award-winning Te Ao with Moana current affairs programme on Whakaata Māori.
But Ono has been worth the wait because, aside from co-producer Free’s integrated sound across six haunting pieces, the artists’ voices blend so seamlessly with Maniapoto’s.
With songwriting collaborator and te reo Māori adviser Scotty Morrison (Te Arawa), Maniapoto dedicates Ono to “all disruptors, visionaries and transformers who fought to keep our languages alive”.
Āio Ana with Sámi singer Mari Boine – who Maniapoto first met at a Taranaki Womad festival – sets a meditative tone of spiritual lament over a subtle pulsing rhythm; Huakirangi is sung in te reo and Gadigal with Aboriginal singer and language researcher Shellie Morris. It adopts an increasingly forceful reggae lope and angular dubadelic touches; Tōku Reo finds common ground celebrating language between the yearning voice of indigenous Taiwanese singer Inka Mbing, Maniapoto’s distinctive voice and Morrison’s authoritative profundity.
Kaumakaiwa from Hawai’i brings keening mystery to Free’s wobbling, dubby echoes on Ātahu and the most unexpectedly successful collaboration has Scotland’s Megan Henderson of the band Breabach soaring in Gaelic on Maiea with the dark, chanting counterpoint of Morrison.
A standout is the thrilling urgency of Jani Lauzon from Canada’s First Nation people on Tū, which beams across centuries and cultures.
Ono is – important messages aside – an uncommonly arresting album of dub electronica-cum-world music. Can’t wait for Paddy’s remixes.
SLO-MO by Fat Freddy’s Drop
Fat Freddy’s Drop slips in with more of their well-executed, familiar soul-funk-dub-jazz sound for summer. The single Next Stop is undistinguished and the title of this eighth album signals no surprises from these mellow fellows.
Nothing is lyrically profound (“get yourself together”, “keep your head up high”, “leave your light on”) and the sentiment on the reworked Avengers about escaping after lockdown (“I’m gonna hit the ground running”) feels redundant but, as expected, cruisy.
A professional and reassuring serving of the band’s signature sound (the funky, eight- minute title track with Louis Baker), some of it neatly psychedelicised (Oldemos), slightly West African (Roland) and dubbed up (Out to Sea). A sound tailored for lazy, complacent, undemanding days.
Ono is available digitally and on vinyl; Slo-Mo on CD and double vinyl now and digitally from November 8.
