“You take and take, but you cannot take from who we are” – “Raupatu” by Alien Weaponry

In this blog post, I would like to discuss a slightly unorthodox form of cultural remembrance.

“Raupatu” is the second single released by Alien Weaponry, a metal band from Aotearoa whose songs are mostly performed in Te Reo and occasionally accompanied by traditional instruments and historical recordings.

Despite their debut album’s namesake being Tū, the god of war, other topics ranging from expressions of personal feelings to the remembrance of one’s roots to addressing problems within modern lifestyles (like social media addiction in “Nobody Here”) can be found as well, with their musical style caught somewhere between extremely rhythmic thrash metal and more melodic groove metal.

[Māori:]	[English translation:]
Nā te Tiriti Te tino, tino rangatiratanga O o ratou whenua Tino, tino rangatiratanga O ratou kainga Tino rangatiratanga Me o ratou taonga katoa	Accorded by the Treaty The full possession and chiefly authority Over their lands Full possession and chiefly authority Over their communities Full possession and chiefly authority Over all things of value to them

Translation included in closed captions

Raupatu can be translated as “conquest” or “confiscation”, generally carrying the connotation of an unjust acquisition according to Māori ownership rules. Specifically, this song refers to the NZ colonial government signing the New Zealand Settlements Act in 1863, thereby breaching a previous treaty meant to guarantee Māori ownership of ancestral lands in Te Ika-a-Māui (North Island), which in turn resulted, among other things, in the systematic occupation of Taranaki during the Second Taranaki War and the demise of many Māori villages. However, this verse covers more than just land as the treaty from Māori perspective was supposed to guarantee autonomy and “chiefly authority over all things of value” as well. In conjunction with the last verse, this song points to a disparity between colonial land-grabbing and the Māori desire to protect their homes.

[Māori:]	[English translation:]
Waikato Awa He piko, he taniwha Kingi Tawhiao Me Wiremu Tamihana Ki Rangiriri e tū ana Ko Te Whiti o Rongomai Ki Parihaka e noho ana Raupatu!	The Waikato river On every bend a mighty war chief King Tawhiao And Wiremu Tamihana Made a stand at Rangiriri Te Whiti o Rongomai Held fast at Parihaka Confiscated!

Translation included in closed captions

Remembering their roots was an important topic for the brothers Henry Te Reiwhati and Lewis Raharuhi de Jong when growing up, listening to the various stories tied to the surrounding landscapes. These stories ultimately served as inspiration to form the band and write about both the past and the present in Aotearoa. “Raupatu” revives King Tawhiao, Wiremu Tamihana and the passive resistance led by Te Whiti o Rongomai through powerful lyrics, guitar riffs and relentless drums. Once again are Rangiriri, Pukehinahina, Taurangaika and Parihaka turned into battlefields. While not as elegant as a poem, this musical genre certainly seems fit to retell Māori history.

[Māori:]	[English translation:]
Raupatu… Rangiriri Raupatu… Pukehinahina Raupatu… Taurangaika Raupatu… Parihaka You take and take But you cannot take from who we are You cannot take our mana You cannot take our māoritanga You cannot take our people You cannot take our whakapapa You cannot take, you cannot take Raupatu!	Confiscated… Rangiriri Confiscated… Pukehinahina Confiscated… Taurangaika Confiscated… Parihaka You take and take But you cannot take from who we are You cannot take our dignity You cannot take our cultural identity You cannot take our people You cannot take our family heritage You cannot take, you cannot take Raupatu!

Translation included in closed captions

Various tribes lost their homes and villages in the 19^th century wars in Aotearoa. The lands were confiscated. And yet, their language and history keep them rooted. A powerful and important message especially for the bandmembers themselves. As Lewis Raharuhi de Jong once said in an interview with the Guardian: “Māori aren’t treated the same as others in New Zealand and, until that changes, we’re not finished.”

The usage of English in the last verse can act as a bridge, connecting modern Māori with their own history, confronting Pākehā with the aftermath of imperialism, but also explaining the conflict to the otherwise unfamiliar outsider. Anglophone listeners will at the very least understand the broader theme of confiscations and identity, even if they don’t understand the stanzas sung in Te Reo.

Language barriers, however, don’t seem to be an issue judging by their growing popularity outside of the Polynesian cultural sphere. Their performance at the Copenhell festival saw up to 6.000 metal fans perform a haka (as far as that is possible in a crowded space) with guidance from haka teacher and HAKAPEOPLE CEO Kane Harnett-Mutu. An event surprising not only the organisers, but also the band itself. And those who want to bend the barrier a bit further will find translated lyrics throughout the internet.

“Raupatu” – and Alien Weaponry’s musical style in general – might not exactly be suitable for mainstream radio stations, yet I would assume that even without a strong affinity for metal music, their works can be enjoyed and appreciated. If not on account of style, then at the very least on account of substance.
Judging by their appearance on Metal Hammer’s cover with the tag line “meet the future of metal”, the band certainly has found their place in metal’s vast genealogy – and it will be exciting to see how many future musicians take inspirations from this band.

“Raupatu” written by Henry Te Reiwhati de Jong, Lewis Raharuhi de Jong and Ethan Trembath
Translation provided by Alien Weaponry themselves.