The rapper who disappeared for seven years.

Why PNC is making a comeback – this time on his own terms.

Hi. Just a quick note before we get into today’s story. I’ve had plenty of feedback about the ABC’s incendiary Live Nation documentary. Clearly, this is an evolving story with more to come. There have been crucial updates since last week’s piece which are included at the end of this newsletter. Skip ahead if you’re desperate for those, but please come back and read my story about PNC. We spent months setting up an interview and I really loved connecting with someone I hadn’t talked to in many years. I often wondered what had happened to Sam; it turns out, like many of us, he’s been through some stuff.
-Chris

‘People thought I’d basically retired from music.’

PNC: An unbothered rapper.

The rain’s stopped, the coffee’s delivered and the microphone’s on. Sam Hansen, the rapper otherwise known as PNC, has an admission to make: he hasn’t done this for a very long time. When did he last sit down for an interview? As the Mount Maunganui sun peeks through the clouds, Hansen leans his head to one side. “It was probably the last time I spoke to you,” he says.

That would make it 2017, around the time Hansen last released new music. It was a tragic time: after losing his mother in a Fielding house fire, he dedicated a music video to her. Known for crafting upbeat party rap with unrivalled rhyme schemes, ‘All I See’ was different. PNC’s mournful song was full of searing lines about how much his mum had meant to him: “Thanks for everything, I owe you in the worst way,” he rapped. “For making Ninja Turtle cakes back on my birthday.”

At that moment, Hansen was in the best form of his 15-year career. He knew it too, telling RNZ he was “operating higher than I ever have … I think I hit another level”. The Spinoff’s Hussein Moses called him untouchable, “at the top of his game … bar-for-bar in the best shape of his life”. That piece was headlined: “There’s little anyone can do stop him”.

That’s the moment PNC disappeared. Seven years later, I’ve tracked him down. Sitting in a Tauranga café just a short walk from the beachside townhouse where he’s been living for the past two years, Hansen is a far more relaxed version of the stressed-out rapper he used to be. “People thought I’d basically retired from music,” he says, preparing to reveal exactly where he’s been all these years. “It’s been ages, man.”

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Hansen began making music from the moment he left school in Palmerston North. He never had a plan. “It was always the passion of music,” he says. He moved to Auckland at 19, named himself ‘PNC’ after his home city, and found himself riding a hip-hop tidal wave alongside P-Money, Scribe, David Dallas and many others. Mixtapes, EPs, albums and awards flowed freely. “It’s all I’d done, my whole life,” he says.

When his mother died, Hansen found himself in his mid-30s. The American hip-hop he’d grown up listening to often used age as a weapon. “Rappers would diss a guy because they’re about to turn 40,” he says. “As soon as you’re in your late 30s, it’s just like, ‘Hang it up, it’s embarrassing’.” He wondered if he should do that too. “You’re in bars at 3am, like, ‘Man, am I going to still be doing this in five years?’”

The answer was a firm “no”. This bazooka kid was finally running out of ammunition. After a trip to America with his then-fiancée, now-wife, Hansen decided it was time to make some changes. “It wasn't like, ‘I need to quit music’. It was around structure and trying something else.” His mother’s death jolted him into thinking: “What am I doing now?”

PNC at 40: ‘I paint pictures on the weekend.’

So, in 2018, Hansen quietly enrolled at Massey University, taking on a Bachelor of Arts with a major in psychology. Hansen thought he might last one semester and return to music. But it was for him. Hansen loved studying. He could feel his brain expanding. His outlook changed. “I found it enjoyable learning how humans think [and] writing in a different way,” he says. Months of study morphed into years. After his three-year degree, he enrolled in an honours course for another year.

During this time, Hansen got married. He left Tāmaki Makaurau and moved to Tauranga. Using his degree, he started a new career. He was still making music. Hansen never stops making music. He can’t imagine a time he doesn’t make music. But he couldn’t release any of it. His attention was elsewhere. “I mentally couldn’t focus the way I needed to for music,” he says. “I’m at university, trying to pass all these papers, I’m about to start a new job. I’m not comfortable yet where I am.”

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These days, Hansen’s life is very different. Late nights in bars and clubs are out. Mornings spent having deep discussions are in. In Tauranga, he works as a family therapist with at-risk youth. That means meeting teens in their homes, assessing their family situations, and counselling them through troubled times. It’s rewarding work. It’s taxing, too. Post-Covid, Hansen says there’s a huge need for this.

Sometimes, though, when he arrives to meet a new family, parents give him a sideways look. He knows what it means: they’ve recognised him from his past life. “The kids are too young to know me,” he says. But, “the parents look at me sideways, ‘I swear I know this guy,’ sort of thing. I don’t bring it up off the bat because it can be confusing. It’s usually later on I tell them.”

He reveals that yes, he is the rapper from the music videos with the dancing red raptor. Sometimes, he tells them something else. It’s not over. He’s still doing music. He hasn’t given up on his career. For the past six months, Hansen’s been releasing music again. Under the working title of Unbothered Rapper, he’s released four songs, aiming to eventually have enough for a full album.

Hansen’s skills haven’t diminished while he’s been away. If anything, his wordplay has sharpened, making his bars more incisive than ever. But there’s growth and wisdom on display. He’s now able to look over his shoulder, to assess where he’s been. “Studying helped me have a different perspective on the world,” he says. “It matured my thinking.” He’s 40 now, the age rappers used to fire disses at. He doesn’t mind. His inspirations have changed. “The core motivation is to make a good song,” he says. “There is no other motivation.”

The industry’s changed since 2017 too. Social media is a huge part of an artist’s career now, but Hansen is no content creator. “I commend the younger artists doing that,” he says. “I’m never going to be doing skits on my Instagram.” Formats have changed as well. As well as asking him where he’s been, fans request vinyl. “Everyone's expecting the vinyl,” he says. “No one cared about vinyl when I was putting stuff out.”

He confirms there will be vinyl, and maybe live shows too. Everything’s happening slower, when Hansen feels ready. “People call it a side-hustle,” he says. “I don’t look at it like that. It’s not a hustle. I paint pictures on the weekend.” He can’t imagine a time that will ever stop. But he can’t help but wonder: “What will it be like when I’m real old? Will there be a time where I stop thinking about that?”

Sam Hansen explains more about his return through his own Substack, Unbothered Rapper.

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Everything you need to know.

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Bonus beat.