WAI

Maaka McGregor was once the drummer of Maori reggae band Aotearoa who were instrumental in bringing a voice to New Zealand’s young Maori population. Such was the subversive power of this concept in the 1980s that one of their songs, ‘Maranga Ake Ai’, was banned from the airwaves by Radio New Zealand. Twenty-five years later, McGregor has revisited the song on this, the second album he has recorded under the name Wai with his wife Mina Ripia. The transformation is remarkable. What was once a slice of well-meaning but duff sub-Marley reggae has been turned into a truly mesmerising piece of music, a combination of minimal beats that carry a distant echo of reggae, and a shimmer of electronic sounds dominated by the mellifluous drift of voices. It is a recipe that works beautifully throughout an album that isn’t quite like any other album we’ve heard. Particularly striking is track six, ‘Mei Kore Koe’, where the cool riffs of a vibraphone and electric piano blend with the warmth of multi-layered voices. The album features numerous guest voices whose names will be familiar only
in New Zealand. The accompanying press release is a hefty four pages long, and talks at length of the deep roots in Maori tradition of each track. None of this information has made its way into the
CD booklet. It doesn’t matter – this beautiful and truly innovative album speaks for itself. - Sublime

The Maori Duo's second album combines classy harmonies with chilled electro. Although it slips down easily , there is more to it than an easy listening experience. Maranga ake ai, for example , is a song once banned in New Zealand for the offense of telling Maori youth to be proud of their roots. The most memorable aspect is the singing as some fo the beats are unremarkable - perhaps its time Mina Ripia and Maaka Mc Gregor came out from behind the electronics and showed us what they can do. - The times - 3 stars

WAI have employed different aspects of traditional Maori music form in the construction of their original electronic roots music. The basis for all rhythm construction on the album has been the Maori language and the poi. The organic natural rhythms and sounds are unfamiliar and the song structures differ from the standard western pop formula of a verse/chorus/ bridge approach. The most memorable thing about the show is the way Mina and the singers bounce their Poi back and forth, slapping and catching to create tight but softly thudding beats from nothing more than a bunch of tightly rolled tesco bags. That, and Mina?s endless source of amusing anecdotes about the ongoing WAI odyssey. We should have come to London first, cos we were all half our size, she chuckles. Unfortunately you?ve got the after-Belgian -chocolate look - fRoots

?from the land of the long white cloud (Aotearoa, or New Zealand) comes this four-member troupe with roots in Maori culture - blended with hip-hop, reggae, funk and other contemporary influences. The results make the music current and accessible, without cheapening the strength and nobility of the original sources, which come through loud and clear?. - Seattle times

finally, there’s WAI. The most unique of all the artists from a global perspective as evidenced by their astounding debut album, 100%. Singer Mina Ripia’s voice is nothing short of astonishing. The music she makes with partner Maaka McGregor and others is like nothing you’ve heard before. But once you do hear it, it’s a sound you simply won’t be able to get enough of. - Cultural activities - USA

‘Emboldened by a storming guest spot at WOMAD Rivermead (Reading), WAI evoked an ambient but feisty Pacific vibe. The arrival of stomping, snarling female vocalists Mina Ripia and Gaynor Rikihana Polynesian Bladerunners in red fake fur, silver PVC and moon boots underlined WAI's maxim to blend ancient and modern, "to find a connection", said Ripia, "that our elders might actually hear". Sung entirely in the percussive Maori language, songs about history, culture and ancestral spirits combined traditional forms with funk and rap aided by innovative knob twiddling, keyboards and snare drum. When the women started chanting defiantly about home and twirling their poi balls they moved things into another zone entirely. Formidable and fabulous.’ - Evening standard

By the end it doesn't matter that I understand only one word of Maori ?when the whole group does a traditional four-part harmony/percussion number without electronics for their encore, something special is happening. I don't know if it will translate, but the crowd here tonight is going absolutely nuts.? - New york press

.?WAI is exactly the kind of group one expects at the Trans? One goes from experimental - to the world - while passing by tribal and hip-hop, all with a marked traditional touch - 99DB.com

Of nine songs played tonight by Maori artists from New Zealand, the best two were by our guests, Wai.

The group's architects, Mina Ripia (vocalist) and Maaka McGregor (instruments), took the chance to demonstrate the melodic continuity between traditional songs dating back hundreds of years and recent recordings using pop, reggae and hip-hop arrangements. Unwittingly, they highlighted the path-breaking inventiveness of their own music, whether on their album 100% Wai or singing live. On record, they have built powerful electronica tracks from a collage of sample noises drawn from both conventional and unorthodox sources.

The pinnacle of the show was a spontaneous live performance for which Mina and Maaka were joined by group members Lance and Gaynor, each of them providing a rhythmic pulse by thwacking a poi into the palm of their hands. Asked to identify the constituents of the poi, which looks like a tennis ball on the end of a bathrobe belt, Mina revealed that the ball shape is made from a tightly compressed plastic shopping bag. - Saturday Night on BBC London 94.9 FM - Charlie Gillet

‘WAI's debut CD bangs off with a big, ominous groove laid down by lopsided programmed beats made from traditional Maori poi percussion, body slaps and natural noises, before Polynesian-related chants and harmonies kick in. You know you're in for something original, and like all really new out-there music it gets better, revealing something extra fresh every play, every day... WAI - producer, languid singer, songwriter and apparently driving force Mina Ripia and producer/ musician Maaka McGregor - have a mission to create new 21st century music out of ancient Maori roots, traditions and language, bringing in other singers and musicians as necessary. They do some magpie thievery from drum'n'bass, R&B, dub, hip-hop, techno and electronica to incorporate random elements that sound both strangely familiar and totally other-planetary at the same time. Thus the fairly traditionally based singing and chanting on ‘Ko Te Rerenga’ has a hint of Stoke Newington clatter underneath, then slams into ‘Kotahitanga’ which gives a fair impression of how a contemporary female R&B group might sound if accompanied by an army of log drummers and a passing 747. And then on to ‘Nha Hau E Wha’ which is all Polynesian-choir-meets-Brazilian-Afroblok (except it's none of that, of course - just trying to give you a flavour). All seriously impressive: beautiful and scary all at once.’ - fRoots

FOLLOWING up their landmark 2000 album, 100%, was always going to be tough for singer Mina Ripia and her programmer and percussion-playing partner Maaka McGregor, which might account for the gap between releases. WAI's debut was way ahead of its time, fusing traditional Maori monotonal song forms (waiata) and language (Teo Reo), haka and poi rhythms with modern funk and R'n'B, dance beats and other electronica. ORA is good, but lacks the freshness and impact of 100%, which received acclaim from as far afield as Britain, where it was championed by Charlie Gillett (the opening track, Tuhia Te Ha, an a cappella chant celebrating the Maori language, is dedicated to the late world music DJ). Teo Reo, a mellifluous tongue, is the prime attraction, rather than the technology. While the beats occasionally intrude, WAI's music remains admirably and inextricably rooted in the natural and percussive nature of the Maori language. The deep synth washes, produced by Iain Gordon (keyboard player with Fat Freddy's Drop), suggest ancient Aotearoan instrumentation (taonga puoro) and generate otherworldly feels. In He Tapu Koe, Warren Maxwell, the smoky-voiced frontman from another popular pakeha band, Little Bushman, duets with Ripia. On the prayer-like Hine-Te-Ihorangi, Mark Te Whare provides soulful vocal counterpoint. - The Australian - 3.5 stars

Roots is a word that has been attached to many kinds of music. In North America, it denotes the rural traditions of hillbilly and blues. In Sweden, it means folk music played on historic instruments like the 600-year-old nyckelharpa.

Curiously, in this country, roots has become almost synonymous with dub reggae, an imported and relatively recent genre that has much to do with Jamaican traditions but little to do with local ones.

If ever a New Zealand album called for the roots tag, it is ORA, the latest album from Porirua-based Wai. This music has roots that run deep: all the way to the first musical sounds ever heard in these islands.

And yet it can also sound fiercely modern, even futuristic. It is as though the Maori notion of past, present and future existing simultaneously, and of the constant presence of one’s ancestors, is embodied in these grooves.

Before becoming partners in life and music, Mina Ripia and Maaka McGregor both performed in pioneering reo bands, Ripia as a singer in Moana and the Moa hunters, McGregor as drummer in Aotearoa.

In 2000, they launched Wai with the groundbreaking 100%. A number of bands before them had successfully hitched the Maori language to popular modes like reggae, rock and R&B. Some had incorporate pre-European instruments, while Dalvanius Prime, with the Patea Maori Club, created a pop hit in Poi E by fusing traditional poi dance with a pulsating dance beat.

But Wai went further forward by going further back. They turned to the tradition of the poi for the rhythmic foundations on which they built the rest of the music. Sampling the distinctive slap of the woven ball, McGregor created beats that echoed the ancient and complex patterns of the poi, making a bed both solid and supple enough to support Ripia’s vocals, a unique blend of melody, harmony and chant.

With little more than beats and voices, 100% was characterized by its sparseness. By contrast, Ora is lush, as though a garden has sprung up on the ground left fertile by its predecessor. Iain Gordon of Fat Freddy’s Drop brings keyboards to many of the tracks, fattening up the chords and baselines, and the total effect is a compelling polyrhythmic funk, capable of commanding any dance floor. On the sleeve, McGregor is jokingly credited as Maaka Phat, a hig-hop-style alias of which he is more than worthy.

But if Ora holds its own as a modern dance album, traditional roots are never far from its digital surface. Even the gigantic jelly-like synthesizer line Gordon plays on Hine-Te-Ihorangi is based on a poi rhythm.

Ripia’s vocals, mostly multi-tracked, glide from monotonal chant to haunting minor-key melody, while guest voices add to the richness. On Hine-Te-Ihorangi, Mark Te Whare weaves his singing around Ripia’s in a soulful counterpoint. For He Tapu Koe, she is joined by the distinctive smoky tones of Little Bushman Front man Warren Maxwell.

The strong material comes from a variety of sources. The faint hint of a strummed guitar on Maranga Ake Ai is a reminder of the son,s reggae origins as an early original by Aotearoa. Hone Taiapa is adapted from a poem by Hone Tuwhare, set against the percussion of the poi and featuring a rare and welcome vocal from McGregor. The Album closes on a celebratory note with Faifai Maile, collaboration with former Holidaymakers bass player Pati Umaga that explores fresh fusions between Maori and Samoan traditions.

Although it has been a decade between discs, Wai have not been idle. Part of that time has been spent touring internationally, with the result that their music may be better known in Greenland or the Channel Islands than at home. They were a favorite of BBC world music broadcaster Charlie Gillett, who died earlier this year and to whom the album is dedicated. Knowing the value he placed on music that explores and surprises, yet carries a sense of its identity, its roots ,he would surely have loved Ora
- The Listener

When the debut album, 100%, by Maaka McGregor and Mina Ripia (aka Wai) was released in 2000 (see here) it was hailed as a ground-breaking event for its deft blend of te reo (Maori language) and electronica.
Yet in many ways the musical landscape had been laid by the likes of Dalvanius with Patea Maori, and then Moana who had also sung in te reo and used the sound of amplified poi (and, in Moana's case, traditional instruments).
Wai's 100% was widely acclaimed on the international stage -- where McGregor and Ripia subsequently spent much of their time -- and its subtle beats and sense of exoticism made them darlings in the global village.
But 100% wasn't entirely convincing to these ears, it seemed more limited in its emotional range than some of its champions were prepared to admit and, although highly likeable, you sensed there was much more and better to come from this duo who had considerable credibility for their previous work in bands like Aotearoa, Moana and the Moa Hunters and others.
Well, it has taken a long time to come, but now -- a decade later -- is the follow-up to 100% and it is a much more confident, musically expansive and emotionally interesting album.
It still starts off from the same premise -- te reo, songs based on the waiata/chant style, rhythm-driven electronica -- but now some of the material stretches into impressive new areas: He Tapu Koe/You Are Sacred featuring Warren Maxwell, formerly of Trinity Roots, is a hypnotically ambient piece for example; and Faifai Malie right at the end brings together musical ideas from Samoan slap dancing with the sound of the Maori poi once it gets going.
Mei Kore Koe (with Phil Leota Smith) is like a stalking chant over quietly bubbling keyboard funk (it is about the seabed and foreshore land march and has a similar sense of momentum that Marley's Exodus possessed) and the lovely Tirama is a prayer to the night sky with soft synth flashes like shooting stars and increasing urgency.
The album opens with Ripia's multi-tracked vocals on the brief Tuhia Te Ha (a salute to the maori language) before things get down to business on the laidback synth-driven Hine-Te-Ihorangi with vocalist Mark Te Whare which sets the tone for an album which weaves between an outdoor dancefloor on slow, warm nights (Maranga Ake Ai) and spiritual reflectiveness (Hine Te Iwaiwa).
If 100% was the album which took Wai to the world (although critically acclaimed at home it rather went by most locals) then this is the one which should provide the tasteful, thoughtful soundtrack to the summer to come -- and many more after that.
A decade is a long time between albums.
It has been well worth the wait.
- Elswhere

Ten years ago, singer Mina Ripia and her partner Maaka McGregor set out to shake up the New Zealand music scene by mixing the melodies, rhythms and language of the Maori people with subtle western electronica. Their album 100% was deservedly nominated for awards, and now, a decade later, comes Wai's second international release, which expands on those original experiments. It has taken them years to complete, and involves a variety of special guests, including Iain Gordon from their more boisterous compatriots Fat Freddy's Drop, but the resulting songs are remarkably fresh and uncluttered. The opening Tuhia Te Ha, which is dedicated to the "late, great Charlie Gillett", one of the band's early champions, is an unaccompanied vocal harmony piece with lyrics praising the success of the Maori language, and has the gentle charm of church choral music. When the electronica does kick in, it is rarely allowed to dominate but instead follows the ebb and flow of the vocal lines on songs that range from the drifting, trance-like Mei Kore Koe to the gently driving dance track Faifai Malie, which also makes use of Samoan languages and rhythms. It has been worth the wait. - Guardian - 4 stars

It’s taken New Zealand Maori outfit Wai a full ten years to record a follow-up album to their groundbreaking 2000 debut 100%, but it’s been worth the wait. A self-sufficient Wellington duo, made up of singer Mina Ripia (pictured) and her tech-minded partner Maaka (Phat) McGregor, the pair handle most of the music themselves, including production, bringing in guests as needed.

Sung entirely in Te Reo (Maori language), the album is a strong reflection of the cultural pride and revitalisation that has been occurring in Aotearoa in recent years. Ora means ‘life’ and many of the topics addressed reflect the title: there are songs acknowledging ancestors, traditional sea rights, stars and planets, as well as karakia (prayers) to the goddesses of rain, food, childbirth and other life-giving properties. There are also references to the traditional crafts of carving and weaving.

McGregor’s imaginative production employs programmed beats and basslines that are thoroughly 21st century, but rooted in traditional poi rhythms that mimic breathing and heartbeat. Mina’s vocals are pristine and powerful, evoking the eloquent cadence of formal Maori oratory, with flawless harmonising from several featured vocalists. Fat Freddy’s Drop keyboardist Iain Gordon adds extra synth layers on several tracks, while ex-Drop saxman Warren (Little Bushman) Maxwell lends vocals on the gorgeous ‘He Tapu Koe’. The closing ‘Faifai Malie’ melds Maori and Samoan lyrics, featuring the deep Pacific voice of Pati Umaga. While many musicians attempt to unite indigenous traditions with modern technologies, few succeed at it as well as Wai. Truly exceptional.
- Song lines - 5 stars