Marlon Williams reflects on the challenge of writing an album entirely in Māori

ori” lyrics. “A translator, not an editor,” Williams clarifies. “I wanted to make sure my intention was clear and that the frame of the song was unaffected. The bulk of the lyrics were written in English and then we went through and found the appropriate te reo.”He’s been cooking more at home, too, experimenting with claypot recipes and recreating food from his travels. “I make pasta completely from scratch,” he says, before adding, “I didn’t need a global pandemic to get into breadmaking. I was already there.”While Williams acknowledges that he can live anywhere now, as long as there’s an international airport nearby, he needs to wait out another year before moving to the South Island indefinitely. “That’s always been the goal: to live in some sort of majestic discomfort,” he says. “You have to navigate this tricky balance. Being miserable isn’t particularly artistic.”In Lyttelton, he feels the spaciousness of Aotearoa/New Zealand and is more aware of the importance of connecting with nature in order to stay emotionally well. This summer, he’s planning a camping trip there. “I feel better about life when I’m connected to the earth,” he says.He still finds Melbourne a generative place, and talks fondly of the musicians he has formed bonds with there, including the Teskey Brothers, Courtney Barnett, and Jade Imagine. He sees a parallel in these connections and in the relationship that kept him in Melbourne – his recently dissolved partnership with Aldous Harding, also an acclaimed, independent artist. “Inho didn’t talk a lot, but when she did, it was worth hearing. She’s changed quite a bit, though, from who she was,” he says of the musician, widely known for her deep indie sounds that frequently skew dark and mysterious.View image in fullscreenHe is still navigating the tricky balance of life as a touring musician and the need for grounding back home. Photograph: Ellen Smith/The GuardianTheir relationship ended in late 2023, and he characterizes it as “a truly significant chapter” of both their lives: “I think there’s a deeper appreciation of what each other does now that we’re apart.” He describes himself as a life-longer and a bit of a pain, and admits: “I don’t know how you can expect someone to meet you at that level.”Like the apparent complexity of partnership versus solitude, home grounding versus a touring lifestyle, Williams seems to embody contradictions. He breaks into a charming smile as he talks about his recently bestowed Australian citizenship, and the arduous process of stepping out of a music festival with his newborn son to court disaster with a visa, finally approved on his eighth application. “Crikey,” he says, “that was a nightmare.”This logistical headache ends on a high, as he describes Australia as “a pretty special place. I love it there.” Even as he describes his plans to confront yet another visa application, this time in an attempt to move back permanently to the South Island, it’s clear his need for adventure is not dimming.View image in fullscreenIn recent years, Williams has been working on setting up a more balanced life, but it’s still a work in progress. Photograph: Ellen Smith/The GuardianHe talks about reaching the 10-year milestone with his closest friends in Melbourne, and how they are a form of alternative family. The friendships span key collaborators, the local music scene, and the voluntary family life he had at the Yarra Hotel. Viewed through this filter, his move back to the South Island seems even more meaningful.There’s the possibility of starting a family there, but being present is the goal for now. “I need to be back to normal before I can entertain growing my tribe,” he says. Being in the South Island has recalibrated his appreciation for the smaller things, like grocery shopping and going to the library, he says. At the same time, the Southern Alps are always in his peripheral vision, a reminder of the majesty of the country.Opportunity has come knocking several times as his career has thrived, with projects in Los Angeles and Eastern Europe, but he’s pleased and somewhat surprised he’s managed to avoid the pitfalls associated with a rapidly developing trajectory. “It’s not particularly glamorous, but I have no dissonance with what’s come and what I have to