This past Spring, I had the good fortune to sit less than six feet from John Keawe at the Lava Lounge at the Four Seasons at Ka'upulehu-Kona on the Big Island of Hawai'i. It was a rare opportunity to see authentic Hawai'an slack key guitar in paradise.
I drove up the Queen Ka'ahumanu Highway that was cut amidst lava flows that stretched to Pacific Ocean to my left and up to the shopping areas that have grown to support the Big Island's economy. At sunset, the unique brand of island graffiti was otherworldly. I'm not talking about the urban spray paint that I've seen in the subways of Chicago and New York, but small, bright white pieces of coral piled in the shapes of letters, radio station call letters or couples' names against the jet black lava flows that form the foundation for island state's largest island.
Turning into the Four Seasons property at Hualalai off of the highway, I followed Ka'upulehu Drive as it wound for what seemed to be miles, but in paradise, time is very elastic. After all, I was on island time. The concept of "island time" is pretty foreign to many people here on the mainland, but it's safe to say that it's similar to what the Mexicans call "manana." Hawaiians also share a traditional greeting, called the shaka, a multipurpose hand signal that's shared between drivers or friends to signal OK. Just stick out your pinkie and your thumb, and form a fist with the other fingers, and shake side to side, and say "hang loose" and take it easy.
John had just sat down to play when I arrived to a mixed Lava Lounge crowd, ranging from families with young children to couples taking advantage of the resort's honeymoon package and businessmen lucky enough to be on the road on the Big Island. John wore a tasteful, but loud, blue Hawai'ian shirt. The Lava Lounge hosts local guitarists nightly, and tonight's performance featured a mixture of John's solo work from his eight CDs produced by his own production company, Homestead Productions.
John's eighth CD, Aloha Kaikua'ana, includes 11 original and traditional slack-key instrumentals and two bonus vocal tracks. Five of John's CDs have been nominated for Na Hoku Hanohano Awards of the Hawai'i Academy of Recording Arts, and his 1994 CD Ho'onanea won in the Best Instrumental Performance Category. In 1998, the Hawai'i Music Award for Best Slack Key Artist went to Keawe for his Mana'olana CD.
His lilting and soothing slack key style was interrupted by the basso profundo of the Pacific Ocean's waves crashing on the beach, and as John played, I thought of how transcendent traditional Hawai'an music can be. I could see the waves lit by powerful lights in the distance. Of course, the setting also magnified the music and the entire experience, particularly when the evening temperature rarely dipped below 75 beneath the palm trees of the islands. When I play artists like John Keawe, Keola Beamer, or Cyril Pahinui back home in the gray of the Pacific Northwest, the simple and evocative guitar takes me right back to the islands.
John's a regular at many resorts on the Big Island, including the Kona Village Resort, the Four Seasons Resort, and the King's Shops in the Waikoloa resort area. The week after we left, his wife Hope danced traditional Hawai'ian hula while John played at a nearby community center.
Hula is much more than just a dance in grass skirts and coconut bras. Far from it. Each delicate movement tells part of a story, and these stories often are passed down from the generation to generation. Hula is an important part of traditional Hawai'ian culture, and it celebrates the history and the mythology of the islands through some very structured foundations that are taught in hula schools throughout Hawai'i.
I've read that the tourism industry on the Big Island has suffered significant losses due to the terrorist threat worldwide, but there's no substitute for experiencing the magic of the Big Island of Hawai'i first-hand, particularly if John Keawe is playing. For fans of traditional Hawai'an slack key like me, John's definitely worth the trip.
