A front row seat at the evolution of NZ hip hop

To celebrate 50 years of hip hop, former RNZ Music producer Sam Wicks looks back at documenting Aotearoa's own take on this ever-evolving artform.

At a party in the Bronx on 11 August 1973, hip hop was born.

Cindy Campbell lived in an apartment at 1520 Sedgwick Avenue, where she rented the recreation room to throw a 'Back to School Jam'. Cindy's brother Clive - aka DJ Kool Herc - provided the entertainment, spinning a mix of banging funk and soul records on two turntables, a technique he picked up from disco DJs in Manhattan. When the party spilled outdoors into the neighbouring playground, Herc's jam became the first in a series of block parties that set the template for the sound of hip hop.

From those humble beginnings, hip hop has risen to become the present-day lingua franca of pop music and a cultural movement that has influenced everything from fashion to politics.

African, Latino and Caribbean Americans created hip hop's foundational elements - DJing, MCing, b-boying and graffiti - and rap music remains a quintessentially black expression. But it proved to be highly adaptive, finding fertile soil in Aotearoa in the early 1980s, where Māori and Pasifika remade the artform in their own image.

I grew up in central Auckland, not the South Bronx, but it still felt like I had a front-row seat as hip hop spread across the Pacific. I'd see Smooth Crew pieces enhancing the streets of the CBD, breaking competitions on Saturday morning TV, and even the occasional rap music video on Radio with Pictures.

I'd slip into Cause Celebre underage to catch Zane Lowe and Oli Green freestyling with Freebase. I saw Redhead Kingpin play the Auckland Town Hall in 1990 with support from Upper Hutt Posse (sample Te Kupu stage patter that night: "1990 - 150 years of lies"), MC OJ & Rhythm Slave, and Total Effect. I was there the following year when De La Soul headlined, and I'd get tickets to rare shows from Public Enemy, Ice Cube and Cypress Hill by all means necessary.

I used to read Real Groove magazine, studying the details of Kerry Buchanan's Superbad column. I'd tape the True School Hip Hop Show on bFM and Max TV, and religiously watch Wrekognise when DJ Sir-Vere and DLT migrated to MTV. I bought Urban Disturbance's No Flint No Flame and 37° Latitude on cassette, dubbed Joint Force's One Inch Punch EP, picked up 'Chains' on cassingle, and copped the trinity of Kaupapa Driven Rhymes Uplifted, 2b S.Pacific, and Savage Thoughts on CD. I even cold-called Tangata Records to secure a K.D.R.U. T-shirt direct.

But I never had any ambition to be involved. When I got a shot at documenting the culture for RNZ at the 2000 Aotearoa Hip Hop Summit, I was right on time. I never thought that local hip hop would take it this far, but I wanted in.

In and around Cathedral Square, Christchurch outfit Beats'n'Pieces brought together the country's best and brightest, forming allegiances that would shape New Zealand music history. Scribe and P-Money strengthened their connection; Ladi6 made her voice heard with Sheelahroc; a fledgling Dawn Raid Entertainment rolled 100-deep; even a young Tom Scott was there in his early b-boy guise. Armed with a minidisc recorder, I pressed the record button and got to work.

With this one under my belt, being at the right place, right time, recorder in hand, became the game plan. Aotearoa hip hop had entered a golden age, and I don't mean a golden age recognised years after the fact - the scene was heaving with talent and opportunity, and everyone making it happen knew in real time that something special was brewing. For me, it was just a matter of grabbing a microphone and asking questions.

I headed to Papatoetoe to tour Dawn Raid Entertainment's growing empire, taking in studios, a barber shop, and a merch outlet. Even with an impressive HQ, the real hub of Dawn Raid's business was the brisk Saturday trade they did at Otara Market. Hip hop creativity and commerce was plainly on the rise.

A decade on, I felt their impact in the islands firsthand when I joined Savage and Deceptikonz as they shot a music video and played a triumphant homecoming show in Samoa.

Auckland Central was home to Dirty Records, and I got to speak to Scribe, P-Money, PNC, and David Dallas across different releases and tours. And, to switch it up, Dave turned RNZ interviewer with super producer Just Blaze as well as his legendary b-boy cousin Suga Pop, and P-Money joined him when he quizzed his Duck Down Music labelmate Buckshot.

In Kirikiriroa Hamilton, I checked in with 4 Corners. In Pōneke, I chopped it up with Tha Feelstyle and Footsouljahs. And in Ōtautahi, it was Pacific Underground, the performing arts collective where Oscar Kightley and Scribe cut their teeth.

Representing Avondale, Tom Scott was the only musician I approached with no microphone in sight. Home Brew's Last Week EP floored me - I had to know who the voice behind the songs was. Years later, Tom turned journo for RNZ's Music 101, talking to George Clinton, Art Neville, MF Doom, and even Kendrick Lamar in his only NZ interview.

Working backwards, I jumped at the chance to put questions to homegrown heroes from before my time, meeting up with ex-pat music executive and hip hop plug par excellence Kirk Harding at his office in midtown Manhattan, speaking to Che-Fu about the many taongas in his catalogue, getting eyewitness accounts of legendary shows I was too young to see, and riding shotgun as Dam Native’s Daniel Haimona showed me his Tāmaki Makaurau.

And while I'm no longer living in New Zealand, I'm cheering from the sidelines as I watch our scene's constant evolution through the moves being made by Melodownz, Jess B, Eno x Dirty, SWIDT, Team Dynamite, Church & AP, Diggy Dupé, and many more. Aotearoa hip hop got me to where I am, and I'm forever grateful for the front-row seat.