Original subtitles

Dalvanius wasn't the name you grew up with.

If we were entertaining and someone would call out 'Butch! Hey Butch!

' He knew they were from Parterre.

He said 'Oh my gosh, someone's out there from home!

' [Music]

The Freely Works I have to say, that was the lifeblood of Parterre.

You have to say that, wouldn't you?

[Music]

It was a family affair.

Everybody knew each other.

'Oh, Parterre! Oh, Parterre! Everyone together!

' 'One big family, one big family!

' [Music]

The old man was in hospital and he says to

me 'Right, you're going to Western College.

' I pointed at my brother and said 'Oh no, he's cleaver than me.

' And I ended up over here.

You could be a kid, but it was a chance to work with men.

You try and talk like them, drink like them, be

like them, but you've got to come to work like them.

[Music]

That's what it was like. But no, they were good.

They were good old fellas.

They knew who your old man was.

[Music]

When the old fellas go to smoke, they put their eyes off.

They say 'Look, cool!

' And when they come back, you take them back off.

[Music]

In the department rugby team, we had a meeting specialist team.

We played the slaughter floor, and the boning room, and the gut room.

And oh, pretty tough, very tough.

Oh no, no biggie pub.

[Laughs]

You learnt very fast because you went to the pub.

If I wasn't going by a bottle, I'd go and get a crate boy.

Hey, my pay's gone.

[Music]

We grew up with rock and roll.

We grew up with Fats Domino, who was Mum's favourite singer.

So our house was always full of music and merriment

with every Maori minstrel that ever lived in part here.

We started singing when Howard Morrison started.

We were both in the same competition when he became famous, Howard Morrison.

He came first, we came second.

And we were called the Poihi Sisters then.

And we've still got our tapes and records, and

when we did way back then, that was years ago.

Just give us a little taste.

[Music]

There you go, that's about it.

[Singing]

In Australia they say, "Hey, will you be my mate?

" In America they say, "Aha, honey, how's about that?

" But here in New Zealand the Maori say, "Eine, me hokimaya.

" [Singing]

[Singing]

You were raised in part here. The Maori Club is part of your life.

[Singing]

Every Monday night at the church, in town at the Methodist Church, was practice.

[Singing]

And so if we were practicing for like a Polynesian festival,

or there was someone's birthday or so forth coming

up, then practice would then turn up a notch.

[Singing]

You could get home from school and there's aunties

and them in the kitchen trying to get a tune

going, trying to get thatcher songs going.

[Singing]

And so you're really living and breathing it.

[Singing]

After I decided to enter a career of entertainment, my dad says,

"Well, of course, even though it's not on the birth

certificate, we actually had another name, Delvanious.

" I says, "What's the significance?

" And he said, "You were named after a friend of mine who died.

" I went, "Oh, that's great.

" "In the hospital at a place called Barletta.

" Now, Barletta is also the name of one of my sisters.

She was absolutely gorgeous, long hair, right down to her waist.

In fact, if anything, my sister and I should have been really husband and wife.

That's how close we were, and we still are to this day.

[Music]

A naive little country girl going to Sydney, having

to dress up, put makeup on, you know, look the part.

[Music]

We sang with Renee Gayer, BV'd on her album.

There was Jimmy Barnes, Isaac Hayes, Tina Turner. What a lady.

[Music]

He just totally had that understanding of soul

music, and he would do quite long spoken rap,

which would be done probably in an American accent. It would have to be.

And part of soul music's bullshit, and he was good at it, you know.

[Music]

We'd only hear it now and again that he'd been with the

Chevelles or with Tina Turner or he'd been with the Ink Spots.

We'd only get snippets of it, you know, and

nobody knew exactly where or how he got there.

Everybody back here sort of lost him, you know.

Nobody knew where he was or what he was doing or anything.

It came to the attention of Roger Davies, the

infamous Roger Davies, who was managing Sherbet.

Roger Davies then of course started to manage Olivia

Newton-John, and then he managed the solo career of Mick Jagger.

And I mean it was all go from there.

Here we are again, 5,000 sets of crossed legs, 5,000 bums flattened to the floor.

A rapturous situation here tonight.

It's our rapturous pause for Delvanious infestations.

[Music]

Ooh lady, stay away from me Ooh lady, may you leave me be

He won't let you fall in love with me Ooh lady, you hypnotize me

[Music]

You're making me feel you need me

Ooh lady, I want your sex and my thing and leave it well

[Music]

I'll never forget, Roger came back and says Delvanious, no one wants to know about a fat Maori guy and two spunky chicks trying to

be blacks. Why don't you go home, find a Polynesian Maori sound and then start writing material that's going to emulate your culture.

[Music]

You leave all that entertainment world behind, but what

was so good was that to come home to be a Maori again.

[Music]

I think for us he was a good fit because he was family, he was whānau and he had a great relationship.

Well it took a while because a lot of people didn't know him, he'd been away for so many years.

[Music]

He was a bit like my husband in a lot of ways too because he…

No, no way he wasn't like Sam.

No, not like him, but he too liked to help different people, like if he liked

you he'd help you, but if he didn't like you, well you know, down the road.

Well it's the opposite, Sam would never do that, even if he didn't like that person, even if that person told

Sam off, it wouldn't matter to him, he'd still go and help them, but not Del, he was completely the opposite.

So no, he was not like Sam at all, he was different to Sam. Although you know, you'd

love him as soon as you meet Del, you know, he was a real lovable person, really lovable.

But to do things like that, no, no, him and I just never got on together.

[Music]

My sort of experience with traditional music was from home, I was never ever a performer of

traditional song, of traditional wayata, because I always felt within myself I was inadequate.

We have something special for you now, would

you welcome please Del, Vadius and Barletta.

Not being able to speak Te Reo the language, let alone being

sympathetic towards it, to me I took it for granted as a child.

But Te Reo was being spoken and practised all around you?

Yeah, around me, I mean my parents used to, you know, and my mother

always said to me one day, one day, that was her favourite line with me.

And it was really strange because like after living ten years overseas and being

very much in a pākehā realm musically, and my career singing in English all the time.

Coming back to New Zealand in 1979 and watching my dear mother die

slowly of a terminal disease, her dying words to me were in Māori.

[Music]

She was basically throwing it back at me, so if I didn't understand

it, well hard luck, and it was my hard luck because I didn't, you know.

I regret it to this day because I never ever, I knew it was love, she said it was love, but

I never ever knew what she was saying because she was holding my hand with her last breath.

[Music]

He became more emotionally soft, if you know what I mean,

with all that love, love inside of him that he had for her.

But she, I feel that she inspired him to carry on with his dreams.

[Music]

The God fearing folk of Pākehā have long been churchgoers, it's part of the

lifestyle of this little town, but tonight it's a prayer meeting with a difference.

These people are praying not just for themselves and their families,

but for what might need to be a miracle, the survival of their town.

Because for Pākehā the Freezing Works is the employer, and when the shutdown comes at the end of August, 800 will lose

their jobs and Pākehā will lose its economic lifeblood, the 10 million dollars in wages which flows into the town.

We are drifting on a boat called Pākehā and we know that around the corner is a waterfall,

tomorrow we're going to plunge over that waterfall with our family, and God help us.

[Music]

This chant sung by the South Taranaki Maori Club is a reaffirmation of those

tribal traditions and an expression of their resolve that Pākehā shall survive.

The leaders of this Maori group may have to leave town if the works close, and if they go, much

of the initiative and drive that has made this group one of the finest in the country will go too.

[Music]

Nearly a third of Pākehā's population is Maori,

and many of them rely on the works for a living.

The closing of the works could add to the drift of

Maori youth to the cities in search of employment.

[Music]

I saw them, grim death and wooden ghosts, carved on the meeting house wall.

In the only Maori I knew, I cried, "Tiai Maori Ora!

" Above me the takoteka raged. He ripped his tongue from his mouth and

threw it at my feet. Then I spoke, "My name is to the freezing worker.

" "Nāti Dibi is my tribe. The pub is my marae.

My fist is my taya. Jail is my home.

" "Tiai Maori Ora!" I cried. They understood the takoteka and

the ghosts, though I said nothing but, "Tiai Maori Ora!

" For that's all I knew.

[Music]

What would it mean to you to be able to speak now?

It would mean a lot to me. I feel proud. I feel real down because I can't talk more.

No one to learn. It's just that I haven't had the time, really. No one to teach us.

Did this give you the stimulus and all to further that side of you?

Yes, it did. It brought out my awareness that I was Maori.

I guess it was just something that I didn't really want to identify with.

No, I'll take that back. I didn't need to identify with while I was in Australia.

Like, I sang the token Maori songs, like "Hōki Maai," "Pōkara Kariana," and "My

Floor Show." However, I sang them. They weren't coming from within my heart.

So who turned you on to these songs in your heart?

Oh, she's not going to sing that late. I'll tell you what.

I'll sing this for you. I wrote it especially for you for tonight.

This is from the lady. Here we go.

Mary had a little sheep. She took her to bed for her to sleep.

The sheep turned out to be a ram.

So Mary had a little lamb.

Tuhi played me this song called "Er Ipō," which he had just recorded in Australia. And it

was terrible, the production-wise. I mean, his voice was beautiful. Everything was great.

And I said, "I want to re-record this song." He said, "No, I don't want

to." I says, "Why?" And he says to me, "Because I've already done it.

" I said, "But it wasn't a hit." And he says to me, "No, I'm not doing it."

Behind his back, I recorded this rhythm track for "Er Ipō." I said, "I want you to listen to

this." And he went, "Oh, that's lovely." I said, "Yes." I said, "I want you to record it."

He said, "Oh, I'm tired." And I said, "That's why I want you to do

it." I want this real drowsy vocal, like almost lounge lizard vocal.

He couldn't understand what I was talking about.

I said, "Just sing it. Please just sing it.

" This particular song, ladies and gentlemen, I'm

about to sing, is my next single record out.

It'll be released in... I don't know what's that.

And it's a sort of a la vida vistula song. It's called "Er Ipō.

" He sang it once. And the tears came in my eyes.

It was beautiful. And I said to him, "Sing it again." He said, "What the

effin hell for?" And I said, "I forgot to press the button." But I lied.

And I said, "What the effin hell for?" And he sang it once. And I said, "What

the effin hell for?" And I said, "I forgot to press the button." But I lied.

And I said, "This is the only true number one record

you're ever gonna have." And I said, "Who wrote this song?

" And he says this lady called Noi Peffa. And I went, "I've got to meet her.

" Two things she liked to do was play Scrabble

when we were at home and do crosswords.

She'd buy the New Zealand Australian Post just to do the crosswords.

She was very good at English. I could never beat her at Scrabble. Never ever.

Yeah, but we got on him like a house on fire, him and Violeta and Mary Ann. Three

of them. But he was a night person. That was the other special thing about him.

He wasn't a day person. He'd be up all night and go to bed in the morning.

Because that's when he'd start writing or whatever. And I'm going, "Oh, whatever.

" And I would just go. Yeah, for me it was just, oh, that was our routine.

That's when they did a lot of that was at night.

Then him and Auntie Noi were sitting there talking one night. And he's like at this end of the table

with a ukulele. And he's like, "I've got some songs. And can you write me some Maori words for me?"

She goes, "Okay." So off they went. Now Dal, as you have heard from, I presume, thousands of us, a

very, very impatient man. I saw him sitting there the first night with this ukulele on his big belly.

The ukulele's up here because that's where his belly is. And he's playing the same phrasing over

and over and over until she's got her line. Then he'll play the next line and the next line.

The woman just did something to me. There are certain chemical things that happen

between two people. And to me it was something that I'd been searching for musically.

She came out and she had gumboots on. And she was the most unassuming, unpretentious woman

I've ever met. And she just reminded me very much of my mother actually, only shorter.

She'd bring all the skills out of you. She brought a lot of skills out of me that I didn't

know I had or I already had and didn't use them. And you didn't even know she was doing that.

She'd weave. She'd start weaving something. And she'd just go here, finish it. And I would. And

that's how she'd just continue doing this. Unbeknown to me, I'd just finish it immaculately.

And she said, "How long have you got?" And I says, "I've only got a couple of days because I have to

get back to Wellington Polytechnic to go to my Māori language course." I was learning the real, you see.

And she went, "I've got the best school of all, the Wananga

of Ngāchi Parau." So four weeks later, I was still there.

She took me to the old Tokumaru Bay Freezing Works. And there were all the walls falling down.

And we had this incredible affinity with each other because of what had happened at Paatea.

And then, of course, this was about midnight by then.

So Barnetta and I went to bed. And next minute. Get over here. Get over here.

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$2,000 from the local businesses, 20 businesses, $100 each.

And that's how they, I think, most of them put in.

♪♪♪

Thank you very much. $8 for your ride.

So $100 was quite a few dollars for me and I was just starting business.

But I gave it to them and yeah, it's probably the best $100 I've ever invested.

And that's how Puiye was done, through the community.

It's just about all gone now, but it was through them and those two up there.

♪♪♪

That sort of thing going on, but on a little clean sort

of synth, not a big fat piano. Gospel, I suppose, eh?

That's my writing. We had similar writing, I think we did actually.

Just a scroll and a track sheet. What was on each one?

♪♪♪

And then the bass is going low.

Now if I was to hit play, what would happen?

It would probably go.

♪♪♪

The session was from five to six actually at mascot.

Everybody plays everything in one take, because we only have an hour.

So I put on about three keyboard parts.

Tama put the guitar on in one pass.

He rang me and said, "I'm doing some of the songs from home.

" I went, "Oh yeah?

" So yeah, he was doing nice songs.

So I went in, here, there, here.

I went, "Oh yeah, you are.

" Well, that's the one, tell modern, go!

♪♪♪

I ended up playing bass and drums.

Because I turned up with these electric drums.

♪♪♪

By 26, Tama had played guitar and I'd gone up to get a sandwich.

Delvanish was saying, "When you come back, I want space invader noises.

" I thought it was a toy actually.

Well, it sounded like a toy.

It's now five to six and the bus arrives from Patia.

And so the whole studio folds up with the culture grid.

♪♪♪

Looking around, gee whiz.

You see the people in the background with the

inside the, yeah, inside an enclosure looking out.

Some of us had never ever seen a microphone before even.

You know, even standing beside a mic with these things over your heads.

He was quite forceful on the "Party America" club.

Like he would ride them.

No, no, come on, hurry up!

Get out the back door, King.

You're too loud.

No, it was Timmy, mate.

It was Timmy.

He blamed the cousins and it was him.

You were standing right next to him.

♪♪♪

Mary, her daughter, was the worst.

Always flat and her and Tanya and Iman, they were both always flat singers.

But they're much better now.

I've got to praise them up a little bit now.

But at that time they were just learning.

And she was flat.

♪♪♪

Yeah, a bit of overloading there.

And he'd put me in the box with my sister and say, "Righto, you two sing your parts.

" And he really had his finger on the button on the other side.

So he wasn't really recording us.

He said, "Duke.

" And then crack up and tell me afterwards, "Oh, I erased you.

" Creep.

But he obviously had that whole vision right the way along.

He had that.

It was pretty amazing.

The amazing vision of mixing the contemporary with the traditional.

♪♪♪

What's the problem?

I was sad when Uncle Singer came because he brought some whānau with him.

And I just happened to be in there and I heard him say to Uncle Dow,

"Bloody Auntie Eva will be turning over in her grave if she could hear this.

" And we were all going, "What? This is not how we sing songs.

" When I first recorded Poirier, they were horrified.

I said to Moi, "This is the new version of Poirier.

" And I played the backing tapes to her.

And you know what she says to me?

"You are going to have many enemies.

" ♪♪♪

♪♪♪

Hey, you've got to hide your love away.

That's the sound of John Lennon.

You're on the air with Pizza & Clear tuned to 1332.

Radio Eye.

It's time for a celebration dedication.

♪♪♪

♪ I think that any love is good lovin' ♪

♪ So I took what I could get ♪

♪ She looked at me with her big brown eyes ♪

♪ And said, "You ain't seen nothin' yet.

" ♪ If you walk down the street, there would be

"Listen to the Music" by the Doobie Brothers,

that band America, and Bachman, Turner, Overdrive playing.

It was kind of like a piece of sound sculpture 'cause you could hear it coming out,

starting at different places, cannoning down the street.

♪♪♪

Some programmers would basically come in

in the morning at 10 a.m. and look at what was popular

in a certain town in Texas that was similar to Auckland,

play what was being played in a certain town in Texas, and go to lunch.

And back in those days as well, there were only 2 TV channels.

It's like I'm educating you on so many New Zealand's history.

There's 2 TV channels, TV 1 and TV 2.

So on those old TVs, you have a dial that went like...

Oh, we had one of those TVs, yeah.

It'd just go TV 1, TV 2, and you'd just go click,

click, click all the way around, back to 1.

And you'd have telephones with those dial telephones.

And the emergency number was 1-1-1,

but 1 was all the way down the bottom, so it'd go...

♪♪♪

It'd take forever.

That's why there's so many deaths, so many houses burnt down in the '80s,

because it took so long to call the fire department.

It should have been 999.

It should have been.

♪♪♪

RTR Countdown was very cool, and it was...

It was the beginnings of a sense that...

You got the impression that when that show came on,

you could almost hear chairs being pulled up around the country.

You know, people go ah, you know, and I'm on.

I might be on it.

The stuff that was going to come on was going to matter.

♪♪♪

♪♪♪

You could say that most of the industry was closed to Maori, really.

Howard Morrison sort of achieved some stuff,

but that was almost humorous sort of thing.

You know, he was very good at what he was doing, but...

Brown music wasn't really fully accepted as it is these days.

It just was sort of like this little lump next to

all the records, those round things, so there was...

Everybody else had their own little, you know,

under A, B, C, D, and then there was Maori.

And those were literally the days growing up then

where it was pretty shameful to be Maori.

If you're in school and stuff, it would be like...

There's a lot of racism.

There still is, but when we were kids,

the biggest call would usually be from other kids would be like, "Go back to Africa.

" [laughter]

As a language of this country, as a culture of this country, we were not recognized.

We were the toys that you put out

and dangle when important people come to our

country and you send a little boy out with a stick.

And, "Oh, can you girls throw your boy around?

" And for many, many years, that's how I saw those things.

And I think Dow brought a whole new awareness

to our culture and pride in our culture.

♪ Creaking old mill, Maggie ♪

♪ As we used to long, long ago ♪

When I first recorded Poirier, I knew very well

that white radio wouldn't play it at all, and so I had to take a new strategy.

And so I took a couple of kids,

and we did all the dance clubs in Auckland and Wellington,

knowing very well that the chart return stores were all up here in Auckland.

And we went around to the ice skating rinks.

We went to the roller skating rinks.

We went to Les Mills' gymnasium, you know,

where they were doing aerobics and all that stuff.

And I said to the lady, "Put this on and see if you can dance to it.

" And they did.

[singing in native language]

When I took Poirier the song to Murdoch, he says to me, "You're kidding, Delvanious.

Who the hell would buy this?

" When you know you have a smash hit record,

you ask Television New Zealand, the People's TV Network,

the state-owned community TV station, to film a video.

Answer, "We do not have money for Māori language recordings.

" Ask Ready to Roll, "No budget.

" Ask Light Entertainment.

Answer, "You have to have Pākehā words before we can give you money.

" Answer, "Sympathetic Pākehā.

" He played the tune down the phone to me.

So we said, "Well, come down to my studio and talk about it.

" He came in with a big kōhā of fish and chips.

We sat around the table.

"Okay, we'll shoot it next weekend.

" [♪♪]

We had heard there was a guy who could do the Michael Jackson thing

somewhere in Porirua, wasn't it?

And Delvanious said that he knew someone who knew someone who knew someone.

It was like, "Find that guy.

" [♪♪]

[♪♪]

[♪♪]

Yeah, I mean, it blew me away when I was asked to do it.

It was like, "I'm going to be on TV.

" [♪♪]

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Delvanious had a vision.

He had a vision of what was coming in the future

and what was happening alongside him.

He knew what was happening around him.

So he just kind of orchestrated the club with this hand, the music.

He saw way beyond what we were creating on the day.

You don't feel that this is taking away something from the traditional presentation.

To say to the younger generation that you can have

your culture, but only on these traditional terms,

I think that's a bit dangerous because, as it is,

we are trying to struggle to keep our culture alive.

He wanted to incorporate what the young ones of the

time were doing into the song that he was doing.

So I understood it from that point of view.

I didn't really understand it fully as far as what exactly it was going to do

and what we were really doing.

I was unsure.

I think he's dreaming bigger than is practical.

Shame.

He was in Auckland.

We were putting out the karere, a whole four minutes every day.

A manila envelope, a brown envelope turns up, a lump in the middle of it.

So I opened it up.

It was this tape.

I think I called out to the guy who filmed it.

I said, "I've got something here. I'm going to have a look at it.

" He had a look at it.

And there it was, something quite different.

It wasn't a hard decision.

You know, I didn't even know I looked around to see what, you know,

the head of news and current affairs or anyone else was going to think.

Oh, Trevor.

He could play for Aussie one day, that little fella.

I just played it.

I think it warmed up.

It was just like, "Boy, yeah.

" I got it sent as a present that I know a few of the boys down there

at Christchurch used to give me a bit of stick to it,

that I had the old Parthian Marin Club "Boy, yeah" album.

But I was quite proud of it.

You just said to me at that time that someone

was going to come out and record in Maui.

And it was going to dominate the "I would have gone nuts.

" There's a few moments in your life where you just

suddenly have to pull over and listen, you know.

And that was what that moment was, the first time I heard "Boy, yeah.

" I heard that in the Cook Islands, eating breakfast with my parents.

Yeah, everybody wanted to talk like they married, boys.

It changed everything, really.

It changed that whole generation's perception of

themselves and of what it was like to be Māori.

And it gave us all a lot more confidence, I think.

I think of pride, eh.

I was three years old at Kohana.

And how much that means to me is that I'm not from here.

I'm from up north, Kirikiri, Wharei, Ngai Re Bay.

And their music spread that far as it spread

across the world, as you know and as we all know.

But it touched my heart from a young age man.

And I've been doing all those moves all my life.

You still got it. You never lose that.

For me, I think because I was born into it, I was already out.

It's just always been there for me.

I've just always known it.

That's been, I think, the benchmark.

There was a single that suddenly everybody in South Auckland bought one.

And it took it to number one because it was number one in sales,

not on radio play or anything. It was number one on sales.

And then when it went to number one, it was like, rock on.

So the town then become poi e country.

Like, Whanganui was whālep country, because of whālep.

And then when it went second week, third week, fourth

week, we were going, whoa, what's happening here?

Because you've got a Maori song, to say the least,

at number one in New Zealand against all other singers that are coming through.

It's like, did we just do something just then?

New Zealand music has to compete with the best of

international talent for chart success in this country.

Last year's biggest selling single in New Zealand

was not 'I Just Called to Say I Love You'.

It was not 'Dancing in the Dark'. It was not 'Ghostbusters'.

It was, in fact, the Pā te Māori Club and Poi e.

When Māui first heard Poi e, she went, you're joking, it's terrible.

And I said to her, you don't like it?

And she went to me, I hate it.

She said, it's terrible, the only song I like out of those

recording sessions is 'Hei Kōneira', you know, 'Hei Kōneira'.

Because it's so predictable and so John Rollish.

Good night.

And I said to Moi, have you played the video to your kids,

to the mokupunas?

And she says to me, they love it.

Oh, I mean, they won't take it out of the VCR.

They play it up loud and they're doing the poise to it.

And I says, heiaha te fetu o tātou mahi.

What is the star of our work?

Kaori te kaiwaiata.

It is not the singer.

Te fetu o tātou mahi, the star of this work,

is te reo rangatira, the Māori language.

I says, for the four minutes that that song is being played

and your mokupuna are being exposed to that song,

it's probably the longest exposure they're

going to have by their choice, not by yours.

So if they repetitively play that song until

you're all going mad, we have achieved our purpose.

So what was the main song, what was your favourite song that Nan and Pafidau made?

I suppose it was Poiret, because I was learning to do it too.

- From Nanningley? - Yes.

And you've lost it.

No, I just never carried on learning like you have to.

Yeah, I didn't lose it. I couldn't find it in the beginning.

We're going down under now to New Zealand,

where the top of the New Zealand pops really is causing quite a sensation.

In fact, it must be one of the most unusual records

to reach any top 20.

Dalvanius Maori Prime is the lead singer,

and he's a Māori, and so is the rest of his group.

In fact, we did Blue Peter, and the producer says,

"We don't want to have the breakdancers.

" And I says, "Well, I'm sorry.

"The breakdancers are in, we ain't singing.

" Well, I'm delighted to say that they've just flown

over to England for the first ever tour of this country.

And now, for the first ever time on British television,

here's the Poitāya Maori Club with Poiāya.

So we did it, and then we did Air Papa.

Then, at that time, Starlight Express was very huge,

and they said, "Oh, well, you know, we don't know about that song.

" And I said, "Well, why don't you get the stars of Starlight Express

"to come and kneel on the floor with us,

"and we'll have this interaction?

" The good thing about Maori music is that everyone

can join in, and there's one song called the Stick Game

that the audience are always encouraged to take

part, so we're going to have a go at that now.

Come on, Simon. Here you go, Steph.

We haven't had a lot of practice at this.

Here you go.

You've got some sticks for me there, Stephanie.

And then, all of a sudden, I was at the British Museum

and all these screaming high school kids all running out wanting my autograph.

"You're our blue Peter!

" We'd hug you out on the second floor in Auckland, and we'd hug you in the snow.

Come on, give it up.

Say my name.

So we had the most incredible time in London,

and then that's when the Queen was watching Blue Peter.

And then Tim Murdoch says,

"Oh, the Queen of England, she certainly loves you, doesn't she?

" You know, and I just went, "Does she?

" And then he went, "Yes, there's a fax here for you.

They want you to go back to England

and appear on the Royal Command Performance in Scotland.

" I went, "When?

" And they says, "A couple of months' time.

" I said, "We haven't got any money to do that," you know.

And so we thought, shucks, it's the first time

any New Zealand Act, apart from Kerry to Coombera,

has been asked to sing on a Royal Command Performance, but she was always over there.

We went to the government, asked for funding and for grants,

and they said no.

We went everywhere.

Maori Affairs, they said no.

Well, this is the very first pressings, isn't it?

For Britain, and you have it.

You're the only one that has it.

That's great.

And so here we'd had this huge number one record,

we were the, you know, it was sad.

And so I went and mortgaged my house.

(TRIUMPHANT ORCHESTRAL MUSIC) To his face.

Murray's Field.

Beautiful try.

Beautiful try there by Timmy Price.

Kirschel running in now.

Where he put this guy.

- Wait there. - There's Kirschel now.

On his way.

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

Timmy's getting a little hungry this morning.

It's our big night tonight.

For the Royal Gala.

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

(CHANTING) Dow was stuck.

Papa Dow was stuck in London.

- Couldn't come back. - No.

They couldn't get back because they had their programme

already set over there in London.

And they just couldn't get back.

(SPEAKS FOREIGN LANGUAGE)

We wanted to sing this song in dedication to Nui.

This was her favourite of all the repertoire that she gave us.

And with that in mind, we're going to sing Ngā oa Haki

for Ben, for the boys, and for everyone back at Tohumaru Bay.

(SPEAKS FOREIGN LANGUAGE)

(SINGING IN FOREIGN LANGUAGE)

(SINGING IN FOREIGN LANGUAGE)

(BIRDS CHIRPING)

(GENTLE PIANO MUSIC)

Yeah, when he went overseas because of the song.

Took prayer to the world.

- The world. - To the world stage in London.

Yes, they had this huge concert over there.

That's how big it got. That's how popular it was.

That's how big a man he got.

He was just so... as intelligent in this music world.

Papa Dao?

Papa Dao did that.

(GENTLE PIANO MUSIC)

And where tonight, stars of stage and sport

have gathered to play their part in a royal gala

performance in the presence of Her Majesty, the Queen.

Also in the royal party, the royal highness Princess Anne.

The Queen.

(SPEAKS FOREIGN LANGUAGE)

(GENTLE PIANO MUSIC)

So when you hear Royal Paris, I really feel we should be...

Yeah, move down there. We should have gone down there.

But we've got two numbers.

OK? Sorry.

Dressed and down... (SPEAKS FOREIGN LANGUAGE)

Um...

(SPEAKS FOREIGN LANGUAGE)

(APPLAUSE)

(GENTLE PIANO MUSIC)

(GENTLE PIANO MUSIC)

If you leave the first light in my country,

set off to the east, a little bit south,

across a couple of time zones, you come to New Zealand

from a little town called Parterre,

on the west coast of the North Island of New Zealand.

Our next artists have travelled 14,000 miles

just to be here, to entertain you.

They're fronted by an inspirational figure, a man called Delvanious Prime.

Marvellous name, marvellous man.

They combine the traditional with the modern.

Would you give them such a lovely welcome?

They are the Parterre Maori Club.

(APPLAUSE)

(SINGS IN FOREIGN LANGUAGE)

(SINGS IN FOREIGN LANGUAGE)

(SINGS IN FOREIGN LANGUAGE)

(SINGS IN FOREIGN LANGUAGE)

He changed the face of music in New Zealand more than any other person

because he brought two cultures together

and he absolutely 100% backed himself.

A lot of people said he was mad and it would never work.

And even some of the Parterre Maori Club, the old man says, "Are you crazy?

" You know, "What do you want us to do? You want us to do what?

" They were really getting after him a little bit, you know, to some degree.

But he knew it would work and he just, he absolutely 100% backed himself.

And that, you know, for that, you know, it was so exciting to see that happen.

When they put that video out, you know, Poirier, it was just...

Ah, people went nutty, you know, and it's still amazing.

People hear that song now and it's...

You think of Delvanious and, you know, he wasn't a one-song wonder either.

You know, he was a musician for a very long time.

And right to this day, we use Poirier in our show.

We haven't told anybody because we'll probably have to say, "Pay big water to them.

" You know, we use it at the, you know, when the people

are coming in and into the house or into the theatre.

It's... We play, you know, we try to play all New

Zealand music when people are coming into the theatre,

when we're overseas in Australia and everything.

And so Poirier is one of those songs that we play when the audience is coming.

It's just a playlist and it just reminds us of home.

So how indoctrinated we are.

Oh, man, that's...

I didn't even play that for her. She just got addicted to it by herself.

That's wicked.

It's so wicked how, like, a song like that, that came out in your time, has like.

.. It's a timeless song, like a Michael Jackson song, like a Houston song.

For New Zealand, it's a timeless song and it's still as strong as it was

when it came out back then. Well, I don't know. It wasn't a lot.

It is. Yeah, yeah, yeah. No, no. For sure.

Like, even for a two-year-old to be addicted to

that song and to be asking for it again and again.

Yeah. "I'm Poirier. I'm Poirier.

" Even, like, I've been to, like, I've performed

at, like, big, like, games, like rugby games

or NRL games and that song comes on, "Doesn't

matter if we're in Australia or New Zealand.

" Man, the whole audience. It's like this, like...

It's like, if I could... If there's a word for it, it's like pride.

It's like, "Glory for Māori," that song. Yeah.

But not even just... I think it's bigger than that.

It's bigger than just for Māori.

It's like it actually just represents New Zealand.

Poirier will never be forgotten.

And that's the cream. It will never, ever be forgotten.

Even probably when we pass on, it'll probably be still going.

And our young ones, our mukas will carry it.

Yeah. They'll be proud.

And they'll be proud where it came from, right under this roof, under here.

Yeah. Under their footing.

(BIRDS CHIRPING)

Get out of the way, bro.

It was an overcast day and, you know, it just started off a few of us.

And then, for whatever reason, you just started singing Waiatā, you know.

You just started singing and then more people started arriving.

And next minute, the whole hospital, you know, the hallway is just full of people.

And we're all just singing, you know.

And he'd be lying there and he's, you know, saying, "Go hard! Go hard!

" You know, he wanted us to sing louder.

The nurses had asked us a couple of times to

quiet him down, you know, but you just couldn't.

We were just in the moment, in the zone.

He wanted us to just sing louder.

So we went through all the poirier, the musical

songs, you know, other songs, whānau songs.

And then, uncannily enough, we got to poirier.

We got to poirier and...

[speaking Ojibwe]

[speaking Ojibwe]

[speaking Ojibwe]

And yet there must be sadness there that this very

person who became such a pinnacle in your own life

and in your own musical pursuits, Norvanias, is

not here physically, perhaps, to take part in that.

Well, actually, she's with me and I'm sure she's

with you every day because that's what we believe in.

I have many dreams of her, you know, when I have

very low periods of productivity, when I'm working.

And so for me, I find that she's sort of a more stronger

influence on me now that since her physical presence isn't here.

But spiritually, the weight of her has come through through this whole project.

Okay, give a warm, big, massive welcome for

the one and only group that is well-renowned.

In the charts, in three different decades, how many of you knew that?

But anyway, give it up for a round of applause.

[cheering] Come closer.

Give yourselves on the camera, too.

Come closer.

Come closer.

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