Marlon William’s surrounds himself with the familiar Western and Americana traditions and burrows in to connect to his Māori ancestral heritage on Te Whare Tiwekaweka.
Melodically and spiritually, it has an older precedent in the Notorious Byrd Brothers album of 1968.
Wasn’t Born to Follow (Gerry Goffin, Carole King). Lead me to the chasm/ Where the rivers of our vision/ Flow into one another.
Williams’s project spans the madness and fear of the covid times 2020, when he was cloistered at home in Lyttelton, Christchurch.
Chaotic times continue with the evolving global reset of the tariff wars, as if the hand of God has whacked the planet. Hang on as best you can.
’68 in America and the Love Generation had imploded and burned. Two assassinations compared to near misses in 2024. Popular music responded with tough resilience. Truth combined with benedictions.
Williams attended a Māori language immersion school. That does not guarantee continuing fluency. He notes in a brief bio accompanying this release, that one hurdle to overcome was translating back and forth from English. Language needs continuing evolution to thrive, otherwise it becomes a curiosity or museum piece.
Williams had voice training in classical music styles. One of his trademarks is to sound like Roy Orbison. Smooth, blue-eyed soul. Close to operatic tenor.
We are thankful for a translation. I cannot hear a guiding word/ In the town, in the whole world. A lot of soul-searching and personal confrontation is alluded to.
Listed as co-writer for most of the songs is KOMMI Tamati-Elliffe, a lecturer and a Rap artist from Christchurch.
Rap and Hip-Hop are distinctly American music genres, gestating through urban New York City in the mid Seventies and breaking out to mainstream about the time the Punks were holding mass burnings of Disco records.
KOMMI raps in a southern Māori dialect and performs in a sub-sub-genre called Witch-Hop. The genre has broken through its underground roots and has been taken up by Eastern, Asian, Latin artists. The same in this country. Te reo Rap can come alive and be contemporary.
There is no Rap on this record, but it informs the songwriting.
Kei Te Marama sounds like Roots Country and Folk. A sound of Dylan and the Band at the time they were laying down the Basement Tapes in Woodstock in ‘67. Both contemporary and old.
Aua Atu Ra sounds like Fifties Doo-Wop and has similar ambience to Te Kaahu (Theia AKA Em-Haley Walker) and her honouring of Maori songwriting with dreamy Pop ballads. With the harmony singers it echoes another Sun Records alumnus, Elvis, and the Pop style in the first flush of his RCA career.
Me Ua Ua Ke follows with Orbison phrasing and a little soft Pop Gospel.
Korero Māori has ensemble voices and the closest to the swing of the Patea Maori Club’s Poi E.
Kuru Pounamu is the triumph. Impassioned and soulful voice. Van Morrison in his Seventies Caledonian Soul Orchestra phase. Drum accents like Stax’s Al Jackson Jr.
Yarra Benders along as studio musicians. Ben Woolley, Gus Agars and Dave Khan. Perfect spare production eschewing overplaying, Max Perkins assisting Williams.
Panaki and Williams takes a different approach to the Van style. Acapella to begin until the drum signatures signals the rise in passion.
Kahore He Manu E is pure Folk Pop with Lorde contributing an unadorned, affect-free co-vocal. Catches the ear with apparent effortlessness.
Whakameatia Mai is different. Western Swing with percussion clops. Reminds me of the Sons of Pioneers. Quite nostalgic.
Nga Ara Aroha reprises the Dylan at Woodstock atmosphere. Swings with fiddles and an older Americana sense. Complete with Twin Peaks guitar twang.
Marlon Williams takes his familiar blended Americana style, which has brought him fame and accolades around the world and weaves into this distinctive style, a deep delve into his te reo roots.
Te Whare Tiwekaweka, over time will likely become the Kiwi Basement Tapes. I would hope it is viewed positively towards colonisation. The message in the art is a healing one.
Rev. Orange Peel