Album Review: Le Vā

Ladi6 (AKA Karoline Fuarosa Park-Tamati MNZM) is an anchoring thread in the fabric of NZ hip-hop, stretching way back; a well-connected member of the small group of performers who can honestly say they were there first, these days. Seven years since her last studio album, she returns with her very welcome fifth – Le Vā – exploring themes of legacy, loss and rebirth. Life has certainly been life-ing for the hip-hop soul queen, between releases. This album sees her working towards coming to terms with the recent death of her mum Fuarosa, for whom the second, mana-laden track is named. 

The album is not titled for a song, instead referencing the Samoan concept of le vā.

“Le vā is the space between – between life and death, between who I was and who I’m becoming,” says Ladi6. “It’s about acknowledging loss, holding love, and finding new ground in that in-between.”

The Ladi6 moniker is built around the symbiotic, yin-yang duo of Park-Tamati on vocals, and her life and musical partner Brent “Parks” Park on beats and ambience, at its core. They’re known to create in their own lanes, before uniting the results to “see what happens”. On Le Vā, this allows introspective lyrical content – powerful personal mantras, fragments of dreams – to frequently achieve a kind of lift-off, providing a truly beneficial experience for the lucky listener, truly elevating their consciousness. Better make that listener/dancer, because – although there is space for drifting – you will not be able to stay still for this ride. 

In line with its titular concept, it makes sense that the sound is an ongoing negotiation in the liminal realm, created by the effects of separate creations, overlaid by agreement – which is vital to navigating le vā – allowing those things that can only happen when people face in the same direction and trust their trajectories to independently cross. 

A good example of this, in execution, is the dancefloor magnet Fractions. It offers a groove-laden flatbed to ride on, before letting slices of citrus brightness filter in to deliriously disorientate you; like you’re taking a ride through tall trees in summer, the light flashing on and off your face, causing delicious dissociation with earthbound concerns. Or as BBZ, puts it – “Free and loose, nothing to lose…”

Guru is my favourite track. It’s super-uplifting, and an absolute healing balm. “Get on up in the morning…” It’s a welcome and common theme for minimally adorned, spacious, beatscapes, offering plenty of lounge room for vocals that pour like elixir to inhabit. 

At an economical 37 minutes in length – and the comfortable feeling that we are moving through one long mix – the arrival of the dreamlike Outro harks back to the long ago, Samoa days dreams Fuarosa’s reflective daughter imagines her mother to have dreamed. When she trails off these half captured thoughts, you just want to push play to hear the whole album again. I’ve been looping it for weeks, sliding generous, repeat listens into a wider diet of the beats of early Massive Attack, the vibes of late Prince, and the empowering lyrical messages of Self Esteem.