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Sunday Manoa “Guava Jam”: Too Bold for its Time

Sunday Manoa’s Guava Jam signaled a new direction in Hawaiian music. The trio’s definitive album, released on Hula Records in 1969, defined a new style of Hawaiian music, ushering the start of a new era in the islands known as the “Hawaiian Renaissance“—the revitalization of tradition, culture, and language of the Hawaiian people.

But in the early seventies, many found Guava Jam difficult to accept.

The music of Peter Moon, Robert Cazimero, and Roland Cazimero was ahead of its time, sounding nothing like the Hawaiian music of the era. Such innovation would soon shape the sound of the seventies in Hawaii with music that Moon once described as follows:

“The Sunday Manoa breathes new life into the music of the past, enhancing the flavor of old with the influences of today. Guava Jam means that true Hawaiian music is definitely a local product, and is disciplined and rich with feeling as any other folk music.”

Too bold for its time

The range of musicianship, choice of songs, and the way Sunday Manoa’s harmonies blended so well was not exactly an instant hit. It was said that for its time, this was too bold of a step in how these songs were created.

The old school didn’t like these new “rock ‘n’ roll”-like arrangements, while the new school were simply incorporating everything from the California sound to folk rock from the East Coast, but done in a way that was not disruptive to the true meaning of the songs.

The fans who did love it wanted more, but it would take Moon and the Cazimeros three years, and a new label, to finally enter the studio once more to record another album?  Why the delay?

Sunday Manoa hits a stride

In the late 90s, I had intended on writing a book about my appreciation for Guava Jam and had written to Don McDiarmid Jr. in 2002 about receiving information about anything and everything that had to do with the recording and production of it.

As someone who grew up with rock ‘n’ roll, soul, funk, jazz and other styles of music, and got into record collecting, if I became curious about a certain record and wanted to know more about it or why it may have moved me, I had the option of reading an article about it in a collector’s magazine or hunting down a book on the creation of the album. In the last decade, one has the option to watch a documentary series like Classic Albums.

My idea for the book was to treat Hawaiian music with the same level of respect and analysis as a rock or jazz album, and I knew which record I wanted to cover.

Talking with Don McDiarmid, Jr.

While McDiarmid served as the album’s executive producer, it was someone else whose name can be found in countless Hawaiian album credits.

“The unknown star of that recording was my sound man, the great Bob Lang” said McDiarmid, who went on to talk about some of the things that went down in the studio during the recording sessions.

“As we edited Guava Jam from one end to another, I had forced Peter (Moon) into ‘uke solos that he was not capable of playing at that time, and built endings that ran a minute or more, (we) left gaps for inserted voices, all flying from the seat of my pants. Roland tuned the instruments so at least we were in tune.  I used every idea I had ever had to enforce the contemporary sound.“

Tape editing was literally just that: reel-to-reel tapes and a razor blade to make sure all edits were done properly. In fact you can hear a clear edit on “Kawika” after the percussion section jumps right into the group playing ‘ukulele, guitar, and bass. All of these edits would consist of the finished master tape, done on “1/4 inch 2-track. [It] looked like patch work,” McDiarmid told me.

As for the material that ended up being part of the master recording, McDiarmid stated that “listening to the original raw recordings versus the finished master would find no resemblance [to one another].”

(Almost) digging through the Hula Records archives

I had expressed my desire to fly back home to Honolulu, get a chance to meet McDiarmid and visit the Hula archives for a chance to do some research not only about the label, but also to do some research for my planned Guava Jam book.

The concept for the book started when I had bought the album when it was released on compact disc for the first time. While I welcomed it on CD, I had felt the sound was not as good, and had wanted the volume levels to be boosted and for some liner notes to be placed in the booklet.

The 4-panel CD booklet didn’t have any of the lyrics and translations found on the original record, nor the photo of the band in the gatefold.

I had expressed interest in doing the liner notes if given the chance, and he said he loved the idea, and perhaps when it was time to press up the CD again, he would consider my suggestions.

That lead to him saying that whenever I came back home, he would allow me to check out the Hula archives. 

I never got the chance, but did ask him about the existence of any tapes involving the recording of the record: ”I [would] doubt that any of the working tapes or [recording session] notes still exist. The finished masters [do exist], of course.”

Cut and paste: respect for the music

McDiarmid then went into the process of recording:

“The very first things I did were on an old portable AMPEX 1/4 inch tape on 10 inch reels, and even some 7 inch (tapes). Cut and paste was the deal. Bob Lang was fearless, but for safety, we would dub the section off on another machine and work with that. He did a splice once about 15 inches long on 1/4 inch 2-track using a razor, a yard stick, and a piece of glass.

“I also did some things in monaural (mono) and later went back and faked the stereo.  Bob also many times to correct a wrong word in Hawaiian, would take out a part like ‘me’ in the word ‘pumehana’ that had been sung wrong and insert from another cut [song], the correct sound.”

To me, it sounded not unlike recording session stories for rock and jazz albums, but McDiarmid clearly stated that when he recorded music for his labels, it was done out of respect for the music:

“Lots of times we just let the machines roll and would start a take and sometimes break and restart or let it roll, do three or four, if needed and then intercut stuff later. Remember with a one man company with no money we had to re-use the tape time and again and every one paid by the hour.” 

“I never worried about anything but the heart of the Hawaiian music. Without that forget it. I could live with a bum chord or goof but not the heart. The other thing was making sure that the whole project had class and not just organized noise by some tree thumpers, which incidentally is what i think of rock ‘n’ roll.”

Why Sunday Manoa disbanded

There had always been rumors as to why Sunday Manoa had split up.

It was McDiarmid who chose to work with Sunday Manoa when they were Palani Vaughan’s backing group, continued to work with them with the Moon/Bla/Baby line-up, but felt that when it became Moon and the Brothers Cazimero, he knew that this lineup was the right one, although “I could see that the final Sunday Manoa (lineup) wouldn’t last, as there were too many leaders in the group.”

He claimed that in between takes, there was an obvious clash of egos, but as he and Lang managed to record and edit the songs together, there was something in the material recorded and wrapped up by saying, “I really had nothing to lose.”

It may have been too much for everyone involved, which may have lead to that three year gap before the group would enter another recording studio, again with Bob Lang, but for a different label. The Moon/Cazimero/Cazimero lineup would record two albums for Panini, 1972′s Cracked Seed and 1973′s 3, the latter bringing the producers of the record to Los Angeles to record string arrangements for a number of songs.

While Sunday Manoa 3 sounded as powerful as the Jackson 5 or the 3 Musketeers, one look at the cover photo revealed a group of men who almost looked like they didn’t want to be in the same room with one another. Yet if you have the original LP or CD, one look at their individual photos showed a more jubilant group of musicians, with the Cazimeros showing off smiles and Moon in deep concentration.

Perhaps this was a sign for what was to come in a few years.

The last appearance of Sunday Manoa was on Panini’s double album, The Waimea Music Festival, and then things went quiet. It wouldn’t be until a few more years when the brothers became officially known as The Brothers Cazimero, and Moon chose to created a new band under his own name.

Both groups would wrap up the 1970′s in a powerful way with their respective recordings (including the Peter Moon Band’s great debut, Tropical Storm, which also had the group take part in a medium known as “promotional film clips”, better known as the “music video”. There’s a video of “Island Love” that has remained unseen for years), and would take on the 1980s with style on their own individual paths.

Hawaiian music, inside and out

For all intents and purposes, Guava Jam was a focal point in recorded Hawaiian music because of how different it sounded for the first generation who heard it.

For everyone else afterwards, it was Hawaiian music inside and out. If it was revolutionary, it was so because it felt like a swift kick in the ass, especially to a generation of kids who loved Hawaiian music but wanted to show how hip it could be without making any extra statements.

The statements would be in the musicianship and the stories told, allowing the dialogue to continue instead of dying off as a mere artifact of the past.

Note: with the help of this article, I hope to be able to fill in the missing pieces in the creation of Guava Jam, as well as look into the recording of Cracked Seed and 3. If you are someone who would like to assist me in finding out more, please email me at BooksMusica [at] gmail [dot] com.

My Top 5: John Book, a Transplanted Kama’aina

This post was written by music collector and journalist John Book. It’s the first guest blog post by John, a Hawaiian with a passion for all music styles. It’s also the first-ever guest post on Aloha Got Soul. John gives us his favorite Hawaiian albums in addition to an important lesson in Hawaiian music history, describing an era when artists expanded the sounds of traditional island music into something new—something the people have never heard before. It was the start of a revolution, a movement that pushed the limits what Hawaiian music should sound like to new heights. I hope you enjoy John’s post as much as I have. —Roger Bong

“Why did you become a record collector?”

It’s a question that leads to different answers and variations of those answers, and I’m not one who will settle on one, not with everything I have listened to in my life.  I have been a longtime fan of rock ‘n’ roll, hard rock, heavy metal, jazz, soul, funk, progressive rock, disco, hip-hop, electronic music, electronica, dance, noise, Indian classical music, punk, hardcore, stoner, sludge, doom, and many other styles of music, and that comes from years of listening, researching, digging, buying, and absorbing.

The same goes for my love of Hawaiian music. Not only do I enjoy listening and learning from it, but it represents a time in Hawaiian recorded music history that is getting older and will never return again.  It means something to me, because much of the Hawaiian music I love comes from what I was raised on, some of which were around before I was born. These were the sounds of my parents and grandparents.

By the time I came to be, there was a revolution in Hawaiian music that was a powerful force, one that has never been able to be captured again, or at least not on the level that it was.

Not only that, but I am Hawaiian, and thus the music represents a culture, a community, a history, and a big part of who I am as a person.

Taking chances: collecting vinyl

Collecting records is all about enjoying music as a means of entertainment, and with that, a curiosity for what else exists.  If one sees a face on a record cover, one will want to see more albums with that face or name.  If one sees a record company logo, one will associate that with being a “trademark of quality’.  If one hears a certain style of singing or playing, that will become a staple of what sounds good, and perhaps what else could sound good. Then it’s about taking a chance and finding something new, familiar, strange, weird, bizarre, foreign, twisted, etc.

Collecting records is a way to explore the documentation of the world through sound, sometimes in ways that cannot always be achieved through writing, photographs, or movies. Or if anything, it’s a fun way to hear as much music as possible, especially when music is something you enjoy.

Hawaiian music at the core

Hawaiian music was not my first love, even though both of my parents are part Hawaiian. I had a healthy dose of sounds, and they never closed my ears to any of it.

Listening to Alice Cooper and Led Zeppelin in my grandmother’s house was not the Filipino thing to do, and she was sure her grandson was going to hell because of it. But by observing some of the listening and record buying habits of my family, it was obvious that Hawaiian music was the core of who they were. I would learn songs and know the lyrics by heart, even though I may not have known what they were singing about.

As I would learn about Hawaiiana and get deep into the language, culture, and history, those songs would mean so much more because I now knew about the flowers, I could imagine the tales, and in time I figured out some of the double endentre that a song might be disguised as, and why that played a major role in the music.

It wasn’t just the records that were around me, but it was on the radio on a regular basis, I could turn to KCCN 1420AM and I’d look forward to hearing Honolulu Skylark tell the time in Hawaiian, or say “this land of aloha”.

Just typing that just gave me chicken skin.

Adjusting to the mainland

After my dad died, my mom moved us to the Pacific Northwest and as I dealt with a bit of mainland culture shock, I became protective, defensive, and even more proud of who I was and where I was from, even though that wasn’t an easy road for me to navigate on.

I had always felt it was difficult to be proud of a culture and source of influence when everyone associated me with a stereotype.  I had a serious “fuck you” attitude to anyone and everyone around me for the longest time, and by the time I balanced that cultural thin line of confidence and arrogance, I decided to wear that as a badge of pride.

Say it loud, I’m Hawaiian and I’m proud. We go kanikapila.

A timeline of “What was”

I collect a wide range of records, but one thing I always make sure to look for are Hawaiian records, be it the traditional stuff released by Hawaiian record labels, or perhaps something released on a mainland or international label. I like listening to the variety of Hawaiian music that was written, recorded, and released, trying to find out more about these records because even though they are means of entertainment, they are also a timeline of a Hawai’i that once was.

Why “once was”?  

I grew up in a time when it seemed every record made and released in Hawai’i was incredible, whether it was some hard rock by Schnazz, a bit of jazzy soul from Lemuria, or maybe something you would catch on Brown Bags To Stardom or hear on a Home Grown album.

The artistry and music sounded hungry, and when you heard a countdown on KCCN, every single song immediately floored you.

I also have a thing for the cheesy and schmaltzy, along with the completely embarrassing.  When Hawai’i turned from a territory to a state in 1959, there was an explosion of souvenir records which made it possible people to make Hawai’i their tropical paradise. In many ways, there was also a bit of exploitation too, so along with good records made from the Hawai’i Calls radio show, you also had complete crap like Leni Okehu, whose Hawaiian lyrics were nothing but gibberish that meant absolutely nothing in any language.  If you look at various major label Hawaiian records, they are songs written by composers no one had heard of before (or since), performed by musicians who had never set foot on Hawai’i with names that sounded more like someone looking at a street map and going “okay, I am Steven Kapahulu” or “you are Willie Waialae”.  Even those are interesting to explore, and I try to find some good in everything I find.

Journey into Hawaiian Music: Top 5 albums

For me, there will always be a core of records that will be what I define as the best Hawaiian music ever recorded.

It is hard for anyone to create a Top 3, Top 5, Top 10, or Top 20, especially if you’re meant to define them in order of importance. I’ve done that many times over the years with various genres, and sometimes it ends up being a diverse list of things that are all good.

In this case, my list is very much that: a collection of albums I think that are great, if not incredible, although there is and will always be one record that will forever me on top of that list.

For this article, I will simply list four albums from 5 to 2, in no particular order, and explain what these albums mean to me and why. These are albums I would highly recommend to anyone who asks “what is your favorite Hawaiian music? or “if I wanted to start exploring Hawaiian records, where should I begin?”

For me, your journey can begin here.

5. Olomana - Like A Seabird In The Wind (Seabird Sound)

When I first heard this, I liked it because part of “The Lion” was based on The Tokens song, “The Lion Sleeps Tonight”, which was a favorite of mine as well. It was weird hearing that song move into a completely unrelated song, yet it sounded great.

The songs seemed powerful long before I knew what they meant, and when I heard songs like “Grandfather’s Music”, and “Home”, I could relate to it to a degree because its messages were clear.  I loved “Ku’u Home O Kahalu’u” for how “pretty” it sounded, and being raised with records by Loggins & Messina, along with having a dad, uncles, and aunties who played music at various get-togethers and parties, this was just a sound that was a part of my listening norm.

I realized that the song was about missing something, but it really didn’t hit me until much later, when I was already living in the mainland. I realized the song told the story of someone longing for good and innocent times, ones “hanabata days” when one could roam the land and never have to worry or be concerned about being concerned.

A chorus repeats three times in the song, with the third line changing each time, and it almost comes off as if vocalist/songwriter Jerry Santos is trying to confess his sorrow or shame for departing a place he knew inside and out.

He realizes that life is about the adventure and meeting people, even though at times it is nothing more than a voyage that we all go on alone, because it is our own.  Each verse expresses nostalgia and beauty, but the choruses is a mixture of pain and heartbreak, along with a hint of despair.

I know for me, each time I return back home, there are things I remember that are still there, but each time I can see parts of my past slowly going away, as if my new experiences help to close more chapters in my life.

There’s also that fear of debating what truly changes: the land we call home or our perceptions which comes through living life:

“Last night I dreamt I was returning
and my heart called out to you,
But I fear you won’t be like I left you
me kealoha ku’u home o Kahalu’u.”

The song also indirectly spoke to those who were leaving the islands at a rapid pace in the mid 1970′s, while also observing the many changes the Hawaiian islands were going through.

For kama’aina (Hawaii residents) who would move to a new place, this would become one of many “instant homesick” songs.  While Olomana’s version always pulls the heartstrings, Hui Ohana’s cover version does it brilliantly, too.

The album cannot be a whole without celebrating the other half of Olomana, guitarist/vocalist Robert Beaumont, whose guitar work stands out throughout this album.

The music is done in a way that brings not only the care for acoustic instruments, but brings on the influences of folk music and the California sound that had been popular with many rock bands in the late 60′s and early 70′s.

As for “The Lion”, I never got a chance to sit with him and asked him what drew him to the group and their songs, but as I look to the lyrics of the song, originally performed by Van Morrison, there’s talk about sailing away and finding something else.

My dad was someone who loved the ocean, surfing, and boating, and it seemed some of the songs he loved also had similar metaphors, Loggins & Messina ‘s “Vahevala” and the Beach Boys’ “Sail On Sailor” as perfect examples.  While I caught “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” references, perhaps my dad was hoping that the lion within him would find a way to escape and make “a new start”.

I also think a lot of people who listened to this at the time of its released in 1976 felt the same way, looking at dead ends and simply wanting better. Every song on this album received a lot of airplay as if each song was a single, and I’m almost certain most people don’t realize that the title of this is Like A Seabird In The Wind, for it’s not listed anywhere but the spine of the record cover.

For a few generations, this is forever “the Olomana album”.

For years, I was curious about the significance of the album cover, or at least where the photo was taken.  Little did I know that the photo was a random shot taken during the photo shoot for a completely different record released a few years earlier on Panini.  When I realized the connection between Olomana and the other album, I was like “oh, I now see it.” That album happens to be my #4 pick.

4. Gabby Pahinui - Rabbit Island Music Festival (Panini)

Let me be honest: it was very difficult to pick what album from Pops Gabby Pahinui I would choose. I did know that I would select a Pahinui record, but which one would be selected was close to impossible. In fact, if this list was based on a list of mandatory artists to listen to, Pahinui would most likely be on top.

Pahinui was a favorite of my grandfather’s and father’s, so by the time I was listening to him, he was already an old man. Yet within his rough voice was history, strength, and power, a true elder, someone you felt like honoring, like your own grandfather.

While I had always seen Pahinui’s Gabby album (nicknamed “The Brown Album” because of its brown tones of the cover photo and graphics, but the look and feel of the gatefold cover was closer to the vibe of Led Zeppelin II, nicknamed by fans as “The Brown Bomber”) pretty much everywhere, I didn’t listen to it until later. Keep in mind too that Gabby’s music was always on the radio, whether it was his work with the Sons Of Hawai’i, his early recordings from the 1960′s, or the Royal Hawaiian Band albums from the mid to late 70′s. As a kid, there wasn’t a need to hear the album if I could just turn on the radio and wait patiently.

Yet there were two albums that were a part of my collection.  One was the great Waimea Music Festival double LP on Panini, which featured a full side dedicated to Pahinui, and the other is my choice here.

As someone who grew to like music festivals and gatherings, I always wondered why no one tried to top Woodstock with a massive event dedicated to nothing but Hawaiian music.

I do remember one festival as a kid out in Makaha, where the Makaha Sons of Ni’ihau played. I was there with my dad, and it was great to see all of these people listening to the same music we did at home. I was very excited about that.

Also, when we would go on our monthly drive around Oahu, we would always head out to pass and see Rabbit Island, occasionally stopping to glance at it. I always wanted to head out there and wondered why I couldn’t, whether it was to swim (good luck on that), or on a boat. I was told it was owned by the government and no one could go on it without permission. Yet I wanted to go on the island because I had the album at home where Pahinui, his sons and friends, were able to have a music festival on it.

I saw the album cover photo, I could relate to seeing my dad get a guitar or ‘ukulele, bust out a picnic chair and just jam. Why not my dad? Why not me?  Well, there are governmental rules, but still.  On top of that, I could open up the gatefold cover and see Gabby, shirtless and smiling, acting like one of the birds.

The album begins with a brief on-location recording of Gabby and friends playing on Rabbit Island while all of the birds are making a commotion. Then the actual music begins, and when you have Randy Lorenzo and Sonny Chillingworth playing alongside Gabby, it sounds remarkable.

I liked these songs because some of the places discussed, especially “Palolo”, were those I had visited many times before.

Then the album ends in a very regal way, perhaps a reflection to Gabby’s youth, and the album ends with the birds returning as if to applaud the music just heard, saying “hana hou”. Who wouldn’t want to play in front of an audience of favorable birds?

On my bucket list: to recreate the photo of Gabby spreading his wings, like a seabird in the wind.

3. Rap Reiplinger – Poi Dog (Mountain Apple)

I grew up with a small but steady diet of Sanford & Son, Good Times, The Jeffersons, Happy Days, Laverne & Shirley, and Mork & Mindy. As a student of records, I also learned very quickly that the same kind of laughter I could experience in TV shows and cartoons, I could also find on my stereo.

My grandfather was a huge fan of Kent Bowman, and he would allow me to play No Talk Stink even though it was a record that, at the time, was not meant for children.  Bowman’s style of humor was very kolohe (rascal) and far from dirty. I knew this because when I’d go to my Omama’s house, she would allow me to listen to Redd Foxx, who I knew as Fred G. Sanford but was much dirtier on his records. At a very young age I knew that some people watched with Fugg, and that someone people spelled B-A-T-H-R-O-O-M very slowly, but for what, I had no idea.

My Omama also let me listen to Richard Pyror, which allowed me to listen and hear every bad word that my parents told me were raunchy. Forget the fact I had no idea what some of the stories meant, but to hear someone speak that freely on a record? This was the same Pryor that was in Car Wash? Wow!

Before I heard of Rap Reiplinger, Hawaiian radio disc jockeys would often talk about Booga Booga the same way some comic fans praise Monty Python: with the utmost respect and analyzation.

One problem: none of the radio stations were allowed to play Booga Booga because of its “racy” dialogue.

Their live shows were always promoted as club events, which meant “18 and older” or “no children allowed”.  I would see various Booga Booga concert posters and flyers and wonder “these guys look fun, why can’t I listen?”

When the news that Rap Reiplinger was leaving Booga Booga to start his own career, this was big news. I didn’t pay attention to it too much, other than knowing that Reiplinger was the man people should pay attention and listen to.

I still remember the day my dad bought me Poi Dog. It was at Records Hawai’i, and I laughed at seeing this bolo head guy that was half man, half woman, with his hand in a poi bowl, making a shaka. He was asking like a kid, because who didn’t want to stick their hand in a bowl of poi? You could never do it, or risk a scolding or (oh oh) a spanking.

I would stare at the cover, wondering what kind of guy would dress up like this. I looked at the back cover and wonder about the curious love note. I wondered about the keys. I wondered about the people who played on the album with names like Sticks Cabang and Sterling Silva. Who are these people, do they exist?

I couldn’t wait to get home. I put it on our record player, and I think for about a year, I played that record endlessly. I wanted to memorize the routines and skits, I wanted to be able recite them all with the proper accents, I loved the fact that the majority of the voices and music heard on the record was all Rap. I wondered if I could do something similar.

A few years later, I found myself collecting comedy records on a serious basis, and while I loved Bowman, Foxx,and Bowman, Reiplinger was one of my first comedy heroes.

I think what I also liked about it too is that it was very “local”. Reiplinger sounded a lot like my cousins, my dad’s friends, and some of the people I went to school with.  He could speak eloquently as one character, but then broke da mout’ li’dat under another character.

While his routines were very much to entertain, he also put a bit of Hawaiian history into things like “The Young Kanakas”, making a joke about Wendell’s 12 inch laulau, and how things silently changed from being a place with young kanakas to young missionaries, and without asking why, Reiplinger went right into “Room Service”, where as if by magic, we’re hearing the missionaries in the form of Mr. Fogerty, a visitor to the islands who wants to eat their cheeseburger deluxe with side order cheese in the comfort of his hotel room.

With “Haikus”, we got a chance to hear about the communities of people in Hawai’i, spoken through Japanese poetry. We now understood about being stuck in Kahuku with ten Samoans, or being in a bathroom with no urinals.  As a kid, we didn’t quite understand what any of that meant, other than it sounded funny.

There are so many highlights on Poi Dog, but the one track that always does it for me is “Lolo Telethon”.  I was always the nerdy kid, but my parents never hesitated to say that I was sometimes lolo, or that other family members were not so akamai, we’ve all heard it.

One could watch telethons with Easter Seals or the MDA, but a telethon dedicated for lolos?  Who wouldn’t want to take part? I know I did, and it was great to hear a gathering where one could watch an unusual dog act from Ewa Beach, Auntie Agnes Kealoha and her goards, and the almighty Pohaku 4. Or 5.

On top of that, one was able to listen to a man from the HHHH Institute: the Hawaiian Hospital for the Helplessly Lolo. Sure, you might notice the error and go “wait, shouldn’t that be the HHHL Institute” but see, telethon Jansen Mefi Mataho was a bit lolo. Who didn’t want to give up some bucks for lolos?  On top of that, Reiplinger, as Mataho, was able to share his store about his cousin on Kauai.

Even now as I’m writing this, I don’t have to proceed to the next part of the track because I know what’s going to happen, I’m laughing right now.

The point is that, Poi Dog became permanently embedded in my mind.

I remember when one of my friends did the “Room Service” skit in a school assembly, but it was only one sided, as he would only recite the room service guy, not Mr. Fogerty.

To show how much time has passed, I still remember hearing the word “fricken” in “Room Service” and thinking that I might not be allowed to hear this record anymore. “Fricken” was equal to all of the dirty words (or at least the ones I knew at the age of 8), and maybe that’s why I ended up using it in high school and today, where “fricken” is now something casual and no longer offensive.

For me, as someone who admired comedians and comedy at an early age, there was a sense of freedom in being able to tell stories that made people laugh, which may also teach in the process. There were a few lessons in the work of Reiplinger, which was fully realized in his last project before he died, the television show Rap’s Hawai’i.

Poi Dog was not a true start, but a continuation of the genius of Reiplinger that he had started with Booga Booga. By the time I found a copy of the first Booga Booga album, I finally realized that Reiplinger had been putting a lot of these stories and “amazing pinball techniques” in his back pocket, hoping to put it to good use one day. When Andy Bumatai had taken to the scene with his style of comedy, it was a great time to listen and learn because they were teachers who spoke funny and weren’t afraid to be like one of the kids, as Bumatai would show in High School Days and All In The Ohana.

Reiplinger influenced a generation that still honors his work, and I hope future generations will be able to explore his work in the same way that I did in my childhood.

2. Hui Ohana - Young Hawai’i Plays Old Hawai’i (Lehua)

Hui Ohana were perhaps the bridge between the old ways and new ways of Hawaiian music, honoring their culture along with family and friends, and the title of their debut album said it all.

Released in 1972, Young Hawai’i Plays Old Hawai’i may have seemed to be nothing more than a group of young men ready to honor the musical traditions of the past, but it was so much more.

There was a bit of attitude and solemn swagger in their smug faces on the cover, sporting their stage uniforms and carrying their instruments, as if to say:

“Yes, we are Hui Ohana, we may look like those Hawaiian groups of the past, which is good. But we’re about to give you so much more.”

To see the young faces of brothers Ledward & Nedward Ka’apana, and their cousin Dennis Pavao, on the cover was like seeing family at a gathering, or something you might take during high school graduation.

The group represented the town of Kalapana on the Big Island, and even if you didn’t know that, you knew that their sound was a bit different from most of the records out in the marketplace at the time.

The opening track, “Nani Waimea”, sounded like something you might catch in a nightclub, a park, or at the beach, just some incredibly sounding Hawaiian music with a two-guitar/one-electric bass trio, with what would become some of the group’s trademark vocal harmonies. It was definitely a mix of the old cha-lang-a-lang with something more hip and modern.

But one thing that is rarely discussed is the influence of jazz on all of them. Ledward would later talk about a love of jazz in various interviews, and he would be known for doing solos with a bit of flash but always with finesse.

Take a listen to Ned’s incredibly intense bass work in “Nani Waimea”. Hawaiian music was always heard cool, calm, and collected, and in performances, one could see the bass player maybe get “wicked” by doing something one wouldn’t expect. But Ned’s bass riffs here could have been something pulled from a Led Zeppelin or Black Sabbath record if you didn’t know it. Grandma might have no idea who Geezer Butler or John Paul Jones was, but you, the young Hawaiian music listener did.

Throughout the album, the group spoke of the places they were raised and visited, the people they’ve met, and everyone who was a part of their lives. They wanted to bring you into their world, so if they wanted to talk about some pani’olo (Hawaiian cowboys), they would do so in “‘Ulupalakua”. If it was a song about the ocean, which may very well be code for the waving motion of something more sensual, you might hear about it in “Hula O Makee”.  If it was about the joy of certain scents, “Pua Lilia” is sure to revive fond memories.

You’d do so by embracing the vocals of the group as a whole, but Pavao’s sweet falsetto blew people away from the get go. Led’s singing was also powerful, and it didn’t matter if the song was meant to be sacred or something that moved you to shake your okole, he could do it without fear.

The group’s output for Lehua Records would continue for a few more albums before jumping to the Poki label, and in time they would try out solo careers.

Young Hawai’i Plays Old Hawai’i is the music of a group who looked to become a part of perhaps a renewed appreciation for Hawaiian music, even though it never really left. Maybe the music was also a reaction to those who were leaving the islands in droves for the first time, or simply wanting to strengthen what had existed.

Hawaii becomes the 50th State

After statehood in 1959, Hawaiian artists were split between what was being sold to tourists as souvenirs and creating pop music to please them in Waikiki nightclubs when they didn’t want to be “overwhelmed with nativeness” all the time.

Don Ho represented the “beach boy lifestyle” of a beachcomber, someone who hung around walking around in the sand, could sing a song with a drink in hand, and get any and all ladies with a snap. Ho became the first face of Hawai’i post-statehood and there are a few generations who still see him as the state’s ambassador.

Even though his music was straight out of an International Marketplace lounge, his live recordings showed he was not afraid to be snappy and at times political about who he was and what it meant to be Hawaiian. In fact, there’s an album made for a hotel chain where he speaks about hoping tourists will come and visit, so that one day the people who work there will be able to buy back some land.

In the 1960s, artists like Gabby Pahinui, Genoa Keawe, and the Kahauanu Lake Trio recorded many albums that not only showed a festive side of Hawai’i, but important parts of Hawaiian music’s songwriting and musicianship.

Some of the songs they recorded were originally written, performed, and released when Hawaiian music was the pop music of the United States in the 1920s, including countless “hapa haole” songs that may have sounded like novelties (and perhaps a bit of buffoonery), but still documented a side of Hawaiian history that is unique to the music.

Yet people saw the many artists releasing records and noticed how all of them were in their customary uniforms. It was a sameness that was making people impatient for something new, and something more.

Just as the summer of love brought on a revolution in rock ‘n’ roll, Bob Dylan was becoming electric, Miles Davis and John Coltrane brought the vitality of jazz to a newer and younger audience, and James Brown was finding himself in 1966 by embracing different styles of soul and jazz for a recipe he would call his own, there was a Hawaiian group who would change the way Hawaiian music was made, perceived, and created forever, but it would take them three albums before they got the formula correct.

Enter Sunday Manoa.

1. Sunday Manoa - Guava Jam (Hula)

Sunday Manoa were originally the backing band for singer Palani Vaughan when they released their debut album on Hula Records.

Vaughan was very much a pop crooner and would move on to start his solo career with the album Hawaiian Love Songs. It wouldn’t be until the mid-1970s when his career would get a major boost with a string of albums that many consider a huge influence during the time of a Hawaiian renaissance.

With Vaughan, The Sunday Manoa consisted of Peter Moon, Cyril Pahinui, and Alfred “Baby” Kalima,  When Vaughan left, Cyril left as well and was replaced by his brother James, better known as “Bla”.  Together they recorded the powerful Hawaiian Time, released in 1968.

There seemed to be a bit of attitude in the photo of the musicians, smiling, ready to take on whatever is front of them, even if it meant going through tall grass.  Obstacles?  No problem. Plus, the album was subtitled “Young Hawai’i today with Hawai’i's own slack key sound.“

“Young Hawai’i”?  Perhaps the musicians had taken a bit of flack with their debut album, as the record with Palani sounded like something very much of the past. These were guys in their early 20s and they did not want to be pop artists, they were true to their mission in taking Hawaiian music to a new place.

“Hawaiian Time” is of course slang for someone being slow, but it could also be interpreted as a way of saying “it’s Hawaiian time, it’s our time, now let’s shine on our own time.“  Moon’s guitar and ‘ukulele work was a stand out and made an impact on anyone who listened carefully.

Eventually, Bla and Baby would leave the group as well, and in time it would be known that Sunday Manoa was very much Moon’s “baby”.  He would welcome in two brothers who were singers, musicians, and students of Hawaiiana as well, so their participation in making music was much more than just casual.

Together, Moon, Robert Cazimero and Roland Cazimero would end up recording what I feel is the best Hawaiian album of all time.

Guava Jam, the album

Guava Jam features the sub-title “Contemporary Hawaiian folk music”. It acknowledged itself as being folk, during a time when folk traditions from other regions of the U.S. and the world were gaining respect. “Folk” might have been regarded as a look into reviving dead and dormant musical styles, traditions passed on from generation to generation, but the Sunday Manoa were saying what they were doing is contemporary, it was very much of the “now”.

Or it was a way of saying that they were “contemporary Hawaiians”, honoring the past but they were young people in their early 20′s, making music on their own terms. They did it with a sound that would haunt listeners forever, the opening drums coming off like a calling of the tribes. These were not the sounds of the Kodak Hula Show, this was tribal, this was honor, this was a cry.

The song was “Kawika”, which had been performed countless times over the years, but never like this.  “Kawika” had generally been performed as a kahiko (chant) by others, and the song started off as you might have heard it in chant form. After hearing 45 seconds of percussion, the abrupt cut into hearing ‘ukulele on the left channel, guitar on the right, and stand-up bass in the middle felt so different from what had come before, I’m sure people might have been scared off by it.

“This is not how it is supposed to sound”, and yet the song, written about King David Kalakaua, may have given off the power of the man many knew as the “Merrie Monarch”, for Robert’s lead vocals, and the harmonies from Roland and Moon sounded like the party you weren’t ashamed of being seen at. Then Moon plays one of the most beautiful ‘ukulele solos and, as foreign as it might have sounded when it was released, this would eventually define the sound of home for many generations of Hawaiians.

The album then moves into “Only You”, and it sounded like you were witnessing the revival of the Hawaiian monarchy, with pageantry and costumes all around. The song was a simple waltz that celebrated the love of two people, and I know for a fact that this has been used at countless weddings over the years. Even if you didn’t know the meaning of the Hawaiian lyrics, the English lyrics told the story: ”Only you. You and I…”

“Heha Waipio” began with acoustic guitars that could have easily been based on records Moon may have heard by The Byrds, but the song itself is a Sam Li’a Kalainaina Jr. composition.  If Moon’s playing is meant to sound like it was done with attitude and sassiness, perhaps that’s on purpose, for as the song may simply be about being respectful to the place you call home, it is said to be a sly reference to sexual pleasures, and being proud of the emotions that are involved.

The intro to “Mehameha” has always given me chicken skin, for when I hear it I imagine being out in the North Shore on Oahu at 6am, waiting for a car to make itself known, and once a bit of the sun shines, a car comes into the scene. The title may make it out to be a song about King Kamehameha, but instead it was written by a Texas man (Richard Bibbs) who wanted to write about what Hawai’i meant to him.  The lyrics were beautifully translated by Alice Ku’uleialohapoina’ole Namakelua, as it tells the tale of a “lonely one” who finds joy and sadness in the islands. My favorite part of the song is when the group stops, starts, stops, and starts again, surprising listeners a few time as you hear the organic sounds of wood and metal from the instruments.

“Maika’i Ka Makani O Kohala” is another incredibly beautiful love song that takes place on the Big Island.  According to Hula Records founder, the late Don McDiarmid Jr., when the group recorded the song, they wanted to open with an oli (chants), not unlike how many hulas are introduced. A few ideas were tossed around on how it should be done, but nothing was working. McDiarmid decided to record the chant, but during post-production, he slowed down the tape so that the oli would sound like it was spoken by someone older, giving it a very eerie feel. It was mixed in, and that was it.

The album closes with the instrumental title track, sounding as if the group were saying “I hope you had a great time, we had fun making this, we’re going to play you one last number, so let’s kanikapila.“

A quick and fast jam session, nothing too fancy, no bells and whistles, just three musicians taking it easy as if it was truly a Sunday in Manoa, and then the album was over in 35 minutes.

Elements of a time now past

You can listen to these albums as something beautiful, representing the people, the language, and the culture of Hawai’i.

You can also listen to them as elements of a time long gone, honoring a part of recorded history that was done as a means to make music and nothing more.

Maybe because there wasn’t a big need or push to archive it in a serious manner, this is why I have always fought hard to preserve these stories for these albums. They very much are a part of my life, and when I hear them, I remember my childhood, some of the good and bad times as a teen, and that longing I have for places, faces, scents, and foods that I’m not able to see and experience on a regular basis.

These artists may not have taken risks as a part of their mission, but the missions they did execute helped inspire more music to be written and recorded, so that more stories could be sung and shared as a continuance of the fabric of its people.

Recovering the soul of Hawaii

My interest in music made in Hawai’i is not just that of the traditional, but a wealth of doo-wop, pop, exotica, rock ‘n’ roll, hard rock, folk, soul, funk, and disco records, which is why I’m here at Aloha Got Soul.

I want to be able to have a healthy exchange in the hopes of not only covering and recovering these lost and forgotten records, but to preserve the stories so that others will be able to make the same discoveries as I have.

The Aliis Live: A Finale to Make Me Smile

The Aliis Live, a double LP made desirable among music collectors after DJ Muro included the super-charged “Finale” as the final track to his Hawaiian Breaks mixtape.

But there’s something missing from the album, something I feel is very important—liner notes worth reading.

The Original Liner Notes

The album’s original liner notes, probably written by the band’s manager, Irv Pinensky, don’t convey the exciting music you hear on this record (which I found at the Friends of the Library of Hawaii Music Sale).

No, in my opinion the liner notes give you almost nothing worthwhile to consider while listening to The Aliis Live. Check it out:

“The Aliis—a group for all ages—music from the 50s to our present day sounds are performed with equal feeling and musicianship. The album, recorded “live” at the main showroom of the Outrigger Hotel in Waikiki, showcases the versatility of The Aliis. Their combination of superior musicianship and great vocal ability have made The Aliis the most entertaining show group in the country today.”

What you do learn about The Aliis is: their music appeals to everyone, they can play tunes from almost any era with expertise, and their skills match the amount feeling they put into performing.

The Aliis “Make Me Smile”

While the liner notes say enough for the disinterested, I think The Aliis Live deserves more.

After all, just look at the musicians and the instruments they play!

The Aliis

Joe Mundo: piano, organ, brass
Al Akana: drums
Carlos Barboza: organ, brass
Rudy Aquino: vibes, marimba, brass
Benny Chong: guitar, bass
Bobby King: bass

Listen closely to “Finale” and you’ll find out that Benny Chong is a multi-instrumentalist. But read the liner notes and you’ll realize that almost every member of The Aliis plays more than one instrument.

So that’s where all that brass comes from!

The Aliis “Finale”

New and improved liner notes

I propose that The Aliis Live needs new liner notes.

Here’s my take, let me know what you think (feel free to add your own liner notes, too):

Explosive, unexpected, fresh—that’s The Aliis, a group whose musical talents know no limits. From early 50s pop to today’s jazz-funk grooves, these guys can dig it. 

If you missed their performances at the Outrigger Hotel in Waikiki, don’t worry because this live album captures their unique enthusiasm to entertain audiences with powerful versions of classic songs. 

The Aliis rule the entertainment world with presence and skill unmatched. With just one listen, you’ll find inspiration in the powerful music of The Aliis. 

The Aliis—meaning “royalty” or “kings” in Hawaiian—reign over Honolulu’s nightlife. After years as Don Ho’s backing band, The Aliis prove their sound can survive outside the shadow of a showroom superstar.

Besides, musicians who easily switch between heavy horns to blazing guitar and organ solos—and continue to amaze listeners night after night, year after year—were born to be kings. 

Here’s to new ideas

Have you ever wanted to rewrite lackluster liner notes of an outstanding album? 

The Home Grown Series, Volume I (1976)

“Inspiration is where you find it,” wrote Wayne Harada in the Home Grown I liner notes, a Hawaiian music compilation released on KKUA Records in 1976.

Me? I find my inspiration in music (of course), and I know I’m not alone (hence: this).

In 1976, prolific radio DJ Ron Jacobs released Hawaii’s first volume in the Home Grown series. Ron had moved back home to Hawaii from San Diego and immediately fell in love with the music of the islands.

While living and working in San Diego, Ron Jacobs produced the California city’s own Home Grown LPs.

But he dreamed of a releasing Hawaii’s own Home Grown compilations. Upon returning to the islands, Ron made it his goal to bring greater recognition to Hawaii’s tremendous, upcoming talent.

Enter, Home Grown I:

“The idea is to provide a showcase, in a setting of pride and professionalism, to possibly launch a career or two or three.”

The careers of several Hawaiian artists were already shining bright when Home Grown I hit the record stores in Honolulu—the likes of Cecilio & Kapono, Olomana, Country Comfort, and The Brothers Cazimero propelled forward with success (some of these acts still perform to this day!).

The initial idea of Home Grown was thus: as an outlet for homegrown artists creating homegrown music. As Wayne Harada wrote in his liner notes for the LP:

“Hawaii is known the world over for its cosmopolitan blend, its mixing of races and cultures. In Home Grown, you get this chop suey feeling—indicative that music remains the universal language.”

Home Grown is the heart Hawaii, sharing its thoughts, feelings, struggles, and emotions with the world.

Let’s listen in:

Country Living presents a perfect example of the laid-back lifestyle of Hawaii with their contribution to the LP. I’ve talked about this before, and it’s true. Country living is free and easy. It’s mellow. It’s open. It’s love of a land that gives and gives so long as you appreciate and respect it.

Another aspect I enjoy about folky, jazzy Hawaiian music is the bossa nova influence. The Brazilian-Hawaiian connection becomes apparent with the incorporation of Latin beats and acoustic guitars. “Country Living Hawaii” represents that feeling that you get while living in a tropical paradise.

Let’s stick around the countryside a little longer and visit the tune “Oh Why Leave?” by Breezin’, following in the footsteps of Kalapana and the new contemporary Hawaiian sound of the 1970s.

Loose guitars introduce the music, written by Steven Min and Robert Agno, with the beat picking up the pace at the 45 second mark. (We weren’t as talented as Breezin’, but this song reminds me of an EP I recorded with my friend back in 2007.)

Cooper’s Still. “Big Island.” Read those four words, what images stir in your mind?

This song, I hope, will fulfill those imaginations. It did for me. “Big Island” symbolizes wide open country, skies greater than God himself, and gentle blowing winds that bring the fragrance of Hawaiian flowers to your nose.

It’s blissful, it’s peaceful, and in just under four minutes, it works wonders on the human imagination. 

Despite the low quality recording, “Makapuu” surprises. Burt Bascone played every single instrument for and sang every vocal track for the song—16 parts total!

A playful, upbeat tribute to the cliffs of Makapuu, Burt’s pop tune proves that one talented man can equal more than what ten men combined could achieve.

Kapono Beamer and Byl Leonard recorded “Living in Hawaii” just four hours before the deadline to enter the Home Grown contest.

Close your eyes and listen to the lyrics, the music will immediately transport you to the islands.

Hana, Maui, is one of Hawaii’s most remote towns and is often called “The Last Hawaiian Place”.

Glenn Pinho wrote this semi-autobiographical song about the highways of life (by the way , the Road to Hana is one of the world’s most scenic highways). Ups, downs, streaks of good luck and regrettable experiences fill our lives. These things shape who we are.

Singing with conviction, Glenn bares his soul, revealing his feelings for his home back in the country.

“Hana Boy” is the quintessential Home Grown composition. It’s country, it’s contemporary (check that cool conga break!), it’s music that only Hawaii can create. 

“Inspiration is where you find it. Judging from the songs selected, there’s a sweeping new interest in the simple life of the country. 

Unsurprisingly, the mountains, the ocean, the backyards, the frontyards, the gerenal beauty of Hawaii have tinkled the creative juices. Whatever, wherever: The Home Growners sing about life in paradise.”

For some, homegrown is a dream. Fortunately, Ron Jacobs captured those dreams and turned them into reality with the Home Grown series.

Read more from the Home Grown Series here.

The Home Grown Series, Volume II (1977)

“A tradition is something that can’t be forced on a community—
it is built on solid acceptance and mass support.”

In a single sentence, entertainment writer Wayne Harada touched upon the success of the Home Grown series, produced by disc jockey Ron Jacobs for KKUA Records in Hawaii during the late 1970s.

“Home Grown has become an instant tradition in the Islands …
and a springboard to fame for a dozen singers, musicians, and composers.”

The first compilation of Hawaii’s Home Grown series (posts on each volume coming soon) featured artists like Cooper’s Still of Kailua, David Kawika Crowley of Peralta, Country Living, and Bart Bascone.

But I’m writing about the second volume in the series before anything else. Why?

Because Nohelani Cypriano’s “Lihue” is on this LP, and that’s about all you need to know (there’s more to learn about, though).

And the winner is, Lihue!

When Nohe and Dennis Graue submitted their song to the Home Grown contest, they won.

“Lihue” was an instant success and one of the biggest singles of the year. Nohe’s debut album (sometimes called Around Again) included hits like “Living Without You”, “Moon Of Manakoora”, and “Lihue”.

For decades, “Lihue” has captivated listeners’ imaginations, proving itself as one of Hawaii’s greatest tunes to hit the dance floors, airwaves, wax grooves, and the drum machines of sample-loving Finnish hip-hop groups. (Note: In 1995, Nohe re-recorded the song with Dennis Graue, giving it a more ‘modern’ feel, if you will. I dig it, do you?)

But like I said, there’s more to learn about the Home Grown II album.

The Home Grown series presents a unique view of Hawaii in 1977:

The country was turning not-so-country anymore, and family stores were being torn down to make way for shopping complexes, suburbs, and parking lots. Chip Hatlelid & Shave Ice sang how the “Fujimura Store” broke down because the island was changing so fast.

Brandon Bray‘s Polynesian disco music got a glimpse of sought-after recognition—the band had difficulty getting airplay before Home Grown II. “Polynesian Girl” by Brandon Bray and Brown Spice, a song about the beauty of Hawaii, featured the largest group on the album with an ensemble of twelve musicians. Hawaiian disco music had it’s own place in the local music scene during the 70s, and Brandon’s blooming career found success with Home Grown’s help.

Ron Tish, an Iowa musician who relocated to Hawaii, shares his contemporary island music in the form of “Bum-Bye”. Many mainlanders who come to Hawaii embrace the islands’ “hang loose” attitude. Ron took a “no-worry, no-hurry” approach and wrote this take on the laid-back Hawaiian lifestyle.

Ray Gooliak, whose album was reissued on Cool Sound’s Cool Hawaii label by Toshi Nakada, gives us perhaps his most well-known song, “Maui On My Mind”. The song showcases Ray playing bass, guitar, percussion and, of course, singing.

Rock Custer sings his love of Hawaii after being away from home for too long. “Wave Dreams” paints the classic imagery of the islands: playful trade winds and ocean waves rolling by, worrying about nothing as a circus of colors stretch across the sky at sunset.

Na Hoapili retells the story of Hawaii with “Oh Akua!”, of a time before the Europeans arrived and disrupted the lives of native Hawaiians, a time when King Kamehameha the Great united all of the islands. As the song progresses, you can hear how Hawaii has changed to a modern-day society where Hawaiian culture must be taught to keiki, the children of Hawaii.

Why Home Grown Matters

“Content-wise, there are love songs and think songs—mirroring the complexion of Hawaii, the beautiful and the bad. One artist who was so bowled over by the beauty of Hawaii (he lived here, went away, and came back) had to get his sentiments into song. Another, alarmed about the continuing demolition of the little things in life, tapped out a dandy ecological ditty. Still another expresses his view about the Hawaiiana movement.

The point is, every song has a story.” – Wayne Harada 

With Home Grown II, as with all Home Grown compilations released in Hawaii, the mix of songs gives listeners a variety of views into our islands, from Maui to Kauai to the Big Island and Oahu.

Each person experiences the land in a unique way. It just takes an effort like the Home Grown series to manifest individual perspectives into something marvelous and tangible.

Stay tuned for more posts in the Home Grown series, showcasing the Hawaiian compilations by DJ Ron Jacobs and KKUA.

Hey Craig Charles! Funky Facts About Hawaii

Last week BBC Radio 6 DJ Craig Charles gave a huge shoutout to Aloha Got Soul before spinning a Jazzman reissue of Lemuria’s “Hunk of Heaven”, a classic Hawaiian funk and soul track.

After the song ends, Craig calls out to his listeners asking for “funky facts about Hawaii”. Mr. Charles, here’s a handful of gospel truths about Hawaii’s funk and soul music scene.

The High School Circuit, a prelude to the Waikiki Nightclub Scene

Bassist and bandleader Rob Kimura described the 1970s music scene in Hawaii during an interview. Forty-some years ago, dance bands started playing gigs at gatherings organized by high school social clubs. These dances took place almost every weekend throughout Oahu, and featured some of the best upcoming talent in the dance scene.

Rob and his friends were a group called Greenwood, with heavy hitting horns and dirty dance grooves à la Tower of Power. They weren’t the only band blessing the scene with raw funk and soul music—Natural High, Power Point, The Nomads (Aura), Glass Candle drew crowds of loyal fans and dedicated dancers.

The best bands (and there were plenty) moved on to the Waikiki nightclubs, pumping funky dance music into Honolulu’s nightlife. Every night, locals (and maybe a few tourists) would move their feet to some of the hottest funk bands around, like Aura at The Point After, for example.

This one might be obvious but…

CTI jazz-funk-fusion stars Seawind are originally from the island of Hawaii, nicknamed the Big Island. Lead singer Pauline Wilson continues to wow audiences with a powerful voice from a petite woman.

But what about Don Ho, Tiny Bubbles, and the tourists?

Yes, there were plenty of places where musicians fed tourists with sometimes cheesy, never-too-funky routines. In fact, many of Hawaii’s best funk/soul acts were showbiz entertainers, including The Aliis, Phase 7, and the ever-so-soulful Vic Malo.

But parallel to the tourist-friendly nightclubs were dozens of discotheques the locals frequented for downright groovy dance music.

Seawind’s manager revealed that, even if Honolulu’s jazz/funk/soul music scene was small compared to Los Angeles, following the ‘word on the street’ lead to Hawaii’s best offerings:

“Having just moved to the islands from LA after playing in a jazz-funk-R&B club band for 5 years, I knew how difficult the club life could be. New in town, I was slightly miffed that there was so little music scene there in Honolulu. Everyone I had seen in Waikiki so far, was playing “Tiny Bubbles”! The word on the street about “Ox” was good, however, and I knew they were going places the minute I walked into the lounge and heard them burnin’ on Herbie Hancock’s “Chameleon”…”

Let the music speak for itself:
Top Ten Hawaiian funk and soul albums

Most people who stumble upon Lemuria’s classic self-titled album don’t realize the Hawaii connection. A funk and soul band this good, from Hawaii?!

The truth is, there are several noteworthy albums that exemplify the surprisingly outstanding Hawaiian funk/soul sound.

Here’s my top ten favorite LPs that showcase the funky, soulful sounds of Hawaii.

1. Lemuria Lemuria
2. Mike Lundy Rhythm of Life
3. Aura Aura
4. Babadu BABADU!
5. Lil Albert Movin’ In
6. Phase 7 Playtime
7. Mackey Feary Band Macky Feary Band
8. Music Magic One Man Lady
9. Chucky Boy Chock Chucky Boy Chock and Oahu Brand
10. Vic Malo Vic Malo

Feel free to discuss this top ten list in the comments.

Need more funky facts about Hawaii?

Easy, browse the archives!

Ron Ka-Ipo with Naturally “Without You Girl”

What would you do without Hawaiian soul music for the rest of your life?

Well, you might fill your collection with some West Coast AOR music or get into the heavy stuff, like some Northern Soul. But before you start thinking about life without this Sandwich Isle sound, Ron Ka-Ipo’s got the perfect song to drift you back to a sweet, soulful, Hawaiian style reality: “Without You Girl”.

Nothing compares to that laid-back island sound…

…So cruise, like sticking your hand out the car window to slice the wind on your way toward the North Shore. Your fingers take flight like a free bird on a backdrop of green mountains, pineapple fields and island music.

Coming from the car stereo? It’s another Ron Ka-Ipo and Naturally gem—a soaring song called “Fly My Robin”.

Tidbits from the album liner notes by Keith Haugen:

At the age of 10, Ron would break from his daily newspaper route to sing to a waitress at a Hilo diner. His reward was a glass of milk and a slice of pie. He was the 15th of 16 children in a rural Big Island family.

Ron, also known as Karl Yomes, auditioned with Don Ho for his first real gig after four years in the Air Force. On tour, Ron played with greats like Gabby Pahinui and Hilo Hattie (the entertainer who founded the retail store of the same name). Ron even performed at Disneyland for seven seasons.

After near non-stop touring, Ron Ka-Ipo made his way home to his native Hilo and found the atmosphere he needed to continue writing music.

This album—the songs and the feelings—are Ron Ka-Ipo. It is an intimate look into a man’s most private thoughts, pain, joy, and personal tragedies. It is a piece of the songwriter’s life. He shares it with you gladly, through his most precious gift: music.

Hal Bradbury “You Win, I Lose”

“You Win, I Lose” by Hal Bradbury Continue reading »

All You Really Need: Jonathan’s “I’ve Got Love”

If all you got is love, what would you do with it? Record an album of love songs, of course! And that’s just what Filipino crooner Jonathan Potenciano did with I’ve Got Love, his first U.S. release.

Continue reading »

Aloha Got Social: Now on Facebook on Twitter

Like what I do here? My mission is to share 1970s and 1980s Hawaiian funk/soul/jazz music with the world, but sometimes I don’t have more than a moment to post something worthwhile.

That’s why Aloha Got Soul is on Twitter and Facebook. These social platforms let me share my thoughts with fans of Aloha Got Soul, whether I’m at the record store digging for Hawaiian LPs or kickin’ it with fellow music lovers @lightsleepers.

While you wait for the next blog post, interview, music video or album discovery…

Connect with Aloha Got Soul here and here. Mahalo!