Stillness for a moment as dawn finally breaks.
Dusk settles in completion, with no promise of a new day.
Kiangu Ngalhika, WAARI’s debut album, captures the breadth of a life from the sun’s emergence, until it disappears back into the land.
There is a peace at the dawn, a humble acceptance of our differences, and the realities we must live in.
“Do you recognise who I am? I am You. You are Me. You are Me.”
WAARI’s sensuous voice delicately explores life’s cycles, subtly transforming from sultry to staunch.
Only to be broken by sirens, all too familiar, in the Blue Hour.
Only then are you allowed to feel the pain.
The stabs swell around you, forcing themselves in closer.
An intimately relatable message, transposed through luscious calls of Country, delicately sampled then reimagined into distinct soundscapes. Contextually allowing the simple strummed guitar, minimal percussion, and rare bass notes to translate stories and knowledge older than time itself.
“Hold me Country, don’t let go”
When his voice (think Frank Ocean and Leon Bridges’ love child), meets this created sonic landscape, that feeling rings true. WAARI clearly draws on experience in multidisciplinary practice, textures are layered then blended to create this work. Every texture imprints itself deeper in the listener’s soul, fostering mutual understanding, allowing time to erode the colony’s bigotry.
In speaking to his peoples’ next generation, WAARI - a proud descendant of the Waanyi and Kalkutungu peoples of so-called Australia, and of the Ngāti Mutunga, Ngāti Manu, and Te Ātiawa iwi of Taranaki, Aotearoa – has provided a glimpse into the sacred. The natural presence of our terrestrial being and the unknown, until it emerges again.
Kiangu Ngalhika. WAARI.
P.S. He wrote, produced and mixed every song himself.
Words by Emad Al Hatu