It’s not easy getting to know somebody when you’re a little bit starstruck.
I’ve been a fan of Tha Feelstyle, a.k.a. Kas Futialo, since his break out hit ‘Suamalie/Ain’t Mad at You’ back in 2004. With its funky jazz horn riff, a beat that begs you to strut like a badass, and lyrics as poetic as they are fierce (‘O ‘oe ‘ea ua ‘e fia kama leaga, a!’), it was a track that for me fully validated the idea of Samoans – and the Samoan language – in hip hop.
And then I saw the clip. For the first time since King Kapisi’s ‘Subcranium Feeling’, I was able to appreciate a music video by a Pacific Islander not just because the artist was the same color as me. The ‘Suamalie’ clip had the added impact of a lush Samoa backdrop and a menacing leading man who looked like he meant every sharp-tongued declaration that shot out of his mouth.
I knew then that this Feelstyle guy was going to shake up the NZ and Samoan music scenes the way that only somebody who defied genres could.
As I discovered more of his work, I found that the approach he took with his art – the punchy thump-thump of highly developed hip hop beats, the unapologetic ‘fresh’ (off the boat) layers of timbre and harmony, the lyrical depth of a skilled Samoan orator – resonated with me especially because, as a first generation immigrant to New Zealand, I had trouble identifying with NZ-born Pacific Islanders and was hungry for a more authentic musical expression of my own Samoan experience.
He made it onto my personal, very exclusive list of artists to look out for. I couldn’t wait to see how his style would continue to influence the industry.
I had to pinch myself a couple times when the very same Kas Futialo showed up at One Samoana. Up until then I had felt like I’d known this guy for years because of all the songs from him stuck on repeat in my iPod. Watching him interact with other natives in the village, however, I realized that the only thing I knew about Mr. Feelstyle was his music.
That’s when the faikala in me took over. After I got over my initial shyness (it only took a few months), I cleverly managed to con si kama o Kas into hanging out with me for a while and telling me all his secrets.
(Okay, maybe not all of them.)
The first thing I learned about the man behind the music was that he’s quite matter-of-fact about the success he’s had so far: “…you got to be really good at what you do and that doesn’t come by being a celebrity.”
And, as you’d probably expect from a rap artist, he isn’t coy about acknowledging his achievements (Beyonce calls it ‘confident’):
“Like it or not but I’m necessary to music, [to] Samoans worldwide.”
Once we got past the generic introduction questions, though, and the rehearsed answers of a guy used to being interviewed, I discovered that beyond the public persona, Kas Futialo is just as complicated and real as the rest of us, but with an incredible story to tell about his journey in music.
“Goodness, God’s got a great sense of humor to take me through that road… to the day you met me [in] that ‘Suamalie’ video.”
At 9 years old, Kas was forced to leave his home in Samoa – his mother and grandfather – to live with other relatives in New Zealand. Even back then, he was a huge fan of classic Samoan bands – Tiama’a, Punialava’a, Five Stars, Penina o le Tiafau, Ava, Kukama, etc. – and found himself seeking solace in the music that kept him connected to a life he once knew.
“I loved music and especially coming over to NZ it reminded me of the good times I had back in Samoa. It took me away for a moment from the reality that I was in a foreign country that I didn’t want to come to.”
It wasn’t long before Kas began writing his own rhymes and lyrics. Friends remember him as a quiet kid who didn’t go anywhere without a pen and notebook. Then, barely into his teens, he began winning rap competitions, forming music groups and taking off on tours.
What must have been an exciting adventure for someone so young was tempered by a rocky, often painful personal life.
For a while, he was raised by an abusive uncle: “… you learn to be mentally strong when you’re young; you just tell yourself when you grow up you ain’t going to be like that loser.”
Then, when he was 13, Kas returned from a tour to an empty house and a note that said his family had gone to Samoa for a funeral – his mother had died. “It messed my mind up for a little while, that if I wasn’t doing this music I could have gone and said my goodbyes.” Ever the pragmatist, though, he adds, “But if I wasn’t doing this music, I don’t think Samoan Hip Hop… would be this advanced.”
Channeling the pain into his art, Kas masterfully documents the experience with his mother in the track ‘Le Amataga’ off his debut album, Break it to Pieces (2004), the same one that produced ‘Suamalie/Ain’t Mad at You’
“It wasn’t an easy road, but who said it was [going to be] easy? The only thing that kept me focused was the memory of my mum and my grandfather.”
When he returned to Samoa for the first time to shoot the music video for Suamalie, Kas learned that the grandfather he was hoping to reunite with had also passed away, three years earlier. “…here i am telling the camera crew, when we get to Samoa my grandfather will hook us up,” he laughs.
And now I was beginning to understand all the angst in that clip. “Everything you see on that video is shot on the spot,” Kas explains. “I just had to let all the anger I had inside out… knowing that everything would be suamalie.”
Indeed, his journey hasn’t come without its rewards. In 2005 Kas picked up three Pacific Music Awards: Best Pacific hip-hop artist, Best Pacific male artist, Best Pacific song for ‘Suamalie’ (with Ian Seumanu). He’s enjoyed heavy radio play in both NZ and Samoa, and has pretty much had his pick of artists to collaborate with – everyone from King Kapisi, Mareko, The Mt Vaea Band, Savage and Dei Hamo to the legendary Jerome Grey, even.
Kas’ music has also allowed him to foray into another passion of his: film.
“Music is my weakness… [but] my dream was to be a movie director. When I was little I would spend hours watching TV at my rich friend’s house, then I’d go back to my village and tell the story and describe in detail what happened… I would draw it out at the back of my school books… I became fascinated by moving images.”
It’s a talent he’s been able to develop thanks to close filmmaker friends, hanging out on film sets, hands-on experience directing his own clips, and “just through ‘behind the scenes’ [features] you get on DVD movies,” he laughs. He’s currently working on his first short film, although I’m not quite sure how he’s managing to juggle that with everything else this busy guy’s got going on.
FIREPOWER FOR THE PEOPLE is Feelstyle’s new album, due for release early May 2010. He’ll be filming the video soon for its first single, a beautifully pensive ballad called ‘Sometimes When it Rains’ featuring Adeaze.
Also on the agenda is a new Samoan album – a follow up to his 2008 Lokokasi album – due around March.
As if that’s not enough to do, Kas was recently in the studio with Ben Vai, helping out on some of Ben’s new tracks. “[It's] a really nice Island album. I say that because he sings a Fijian Song a Rarotongan song and the rest are in Samoan. This is one of the big island albums this year for sure.”
That’s another thing I learned about Kas over the weeks he so graciously allowed me to probe his mind with my many faikakala questions. With all the success he’s enjoyed so far, he is just as excited about the achievements of his friends and is dedicated to supporting the progress of all Samoans.
Does this make him a role model, then?
“I am who I am. I want to be remembered for contributing to a positive change in our people. Jesus is a role model. I’m a person with faults,” he laughs.
Perhaps, then, this son of Samoa has just taken to heart the last words his mother ever said to him, all those years ago:
“Manatua o oe o le Samoa.”
Don’t ever forget that you are a Samoan.
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funky jazz, jazz horn, music scenes, pacific islanders, samoan language, samoan music