For his profile of Nelson’s own aspiring rapper Paul Williams, The Wireless contributor Joseph Moore asked videographer Ollie Neas for his thoughts on Williams’ transition from “novelty teen rapper to earnest adult rapper-singer who makes jokes sometimes”. Neas (who shot our ‘A Little Faith’ video series) met Williams when they were both students at Nelson College for Boys; they went on to collaborate on a number of Williams’ YouTube hits, and remain close today. Here’s an edited version of Ollie’s email.
I think it was inevitable that Paul and I were going to work together, given that he made music and I made films and there were only about two people in Nelson doing either of those things at that point. Prior to our first collaboration (‘Still PAUL’, 2009), our only artistic connections were that he had starred as the antagonist (Diablo Van Cesco) in a feature-length musical comedy that me and some friends were making (Let There Be Dance, DVDs still in stock), and had made two short-films (The Meeting 2 and The Meeting 3’) that spoofed a far-too-serious and very much plotless short film I had made (The Meeting).
READ Joseph Moore’s profile of Paul Williams.
By the time Paul and I first worked together he was a pretty well-established figure in the Nelson comedy-rap scene. His breakthrough video was ‘Night n’ Day’, a cover of Kid Cudi’s ‘Day n’ Nite’ about a dairy in the suburb of Stoke, which was owned by the dad of a guy from his year group.
Then there was a string of increasingly popular tracks, all covers of pop/hip-hop hits, and mostly re-worded to be about something local (‘I Love College’, ‘Nelson State of Mind’). They were all very funny and people were big into the local references. By 2010 or so, he was a local celebrity in Nelson. It was a big deal being mentioned in one of his tracks (I refer you to ‘Nelson State of Mind’ for my moment of glory).
The novelty of the whole thing was a definitely a factor in his popularity at this point. He was this funny white guy who rapped about Nelson or Harry Potter over your hip-hop tracks that were meant to be about money and women. It always seemed like comedy was driving the enterprise, and the fact that he rapped well was just part of the gag.
I think one of the issues Paul runs into these days is that people still view him in the funny-guy-who-raps-about-Nelson mould, even though he’s moved to a very different space. Humour is still a part of his music – he’s a naturally funny guy and anything he writes ends up being imbued with humour – but comedy is no longer the main purpose of what he’s doing.
WATCH Ollie Neas’ video for Paul Williams’ ‘Diamonds’ (and the ‘making of’)
I think some people who first heard about him back in the Nelson days listen to him expecting to be laughed out of their socks but instead they find real, actual, takes-itself-seriously music. And it’s really good music. But I think that, as of his last two EPs, he’s found a whole lot of confidence to take what he’s doing seriously, and to actually be upfront with that now.
WATCH Ollie Neas’ video for Paul Williams’ ‘Reading Courtenay’
I think [Williams’ new EP] Songs About Girls marks a meaningful turning point in this respect. In the same way it stopped making sense to call Paul a “comedy-rapper” a way back, it now doesn’t make sense to call Paul a “rapper” at all – the term is too confining to do him justice. Yes, he raps, and does so expertly, but he also writes pop bangerz, the melodies of which he croons like an angel, and produces beats that make Timbaland look like Ringo Starr. I think that with another EP like Songs About Girls, another couple of paradigm-shattering, zeitgeist-clattering music videos from myself, and some luck, he can make the step to a proper-big audience.
WATCH Ollie Neas’ video for Paul Williams’ ‘Chicken’
As for seeing him live, I’ve only actually seen Paul perform live once (as a solo act, that is – I bore witness to his 2009 Rockquest performance with The Gnats, an improvisational synth-pop). It was at the Hunter Lounge at Victoria University and they must have sold only a dozen tickets. It takes a lot of courage to get up on stage with no support except for a mic and a laptop and rap to a room that is virtually empty, apart from a few strangers lurking in the corners. But Paul was good.
Cover image by Tim Batt.
