Hawaiian Holiday
Learning slack-key from the masters
by Brian Kluepfel

Copyright © 2004 String Letter Publishing, Inc. From Acoustic Guitar, April 2004, issue 136,
© 2004 String Letter Publishing. All rights reserved. For more information on Acoustic Guitar, contact String Letter Publishing, P.O. Box 767, San Anselmo, CA 94979; (415) 485-6946; Fax (415) 485-0831; www.stringletter.com.

When I first moved to Berkeley, California, in 1990, I had the honor of seeing Raymond Kane give a slack-key guitar concert at the Freight and Salvage. It opened up a whole new musical world to me: different tunings, most of the lyrics in a different language. But what I remember most was Uncle Raymond's deep, guttural laugh and constant smile. Last summer, I had the great fortune to absorb some of the secrets of slack-key, along with a healthy dose of aloha, at slack-key master George Kahumoku's sixth annual Maui Slack-Key Workshop on the magical island of Maui.

George greeted me on check-in at the Mauian Hotel, and it was clear that he was the man in charge. Anyone who can give you a room key and take your order for lunch the next day has his hands fully on the wheel. Nancy, George's wahine (wife) deserves equal kudos for always handling various administrative chores around Camp Slack with aplomb and a smile.

This program has blossomed from a small slack-key (ki ho'alu) workshop into a full-on Hawaiian immersion with lessons in huIa, ukulele, lei making, and oli (Hawaiian-language chanting). Oh yeah, and weeding taro patches, but more on that later. The workshop was truly like a
summer camp, in the best sense--we even got matching red T-shirts. The days were full of activity, and I slept like a log, falling asleep to the ocean at night and waking to the birds in the morning.

I was constantly blown away by the surroundings. The grounds of the Mauian were dusted with white-and-yellow plumeria, a popuIar flower for lei making because of its intoxicatingly sweet scent. Brazilian red-cap cardinals and mynah birds flitted back and forth. And when our eyes glanced up from our guitars at the nightly kanikapila (jam session), we couId see the sun setting across the water behind the tiny island of Molokai.

The teachers were as enthusiastic as they were knowledgeable. Cyril Pahinui was the mad scientist of slack, tuning all nearby guitars to open D before he even checked in on Wednesday. Dennis Kamakahi rolled in for each class in natty golf attire, almost as eager to share his latest exploits on the links as the secrets of C Mauna Loa (C6) tuning (C G E G A C).

But it was the aloha spirit that really struck me, that these masters of the style could be completely down-to-earth and approachable. There was no separation at the big circle every night; everyone jammed with some of the best slack-key players on earth. The spirit of aloha manifested itself in everything we did, lingering over handshakes and meals, engaging in "talk story," and frankly, laughing and smiling a lot. Aloha is the openness and kindness of the human spirit that can't be bottled or put on a T-shirt, although people have certainly tried.

On the first night, George encouraged me to bring my guitar to the giant post-dinner kanikapila. I told him that it was still tuned to standard and he said, "Don't worry." Pretty soon I was following along (a lot of the slack-key repertoire has I-IV-V progressions) and even grabbed a solo before the night was out. Over coffee the next morning, a fellow camper told me I had messed with his head. He had already tuned to open G and was looking at me for the chord shapes. Anyway, that day it was time to tune both my main ax and travel guitar to what's called G taro patch (D G D G B D), one of the most common slack-key tunings. By the end of the week, our strings wouId pay the price for the constant changes in tuning.

Slack-key reminds me of country blues: there are a lot of regional (in Hawaii, family-based) tunings, and the music sounds deceptively simple. Then there's the island connection: Hawaiian pidgin sounds uncannily to my ears like Jamaican patois. (One day at lunch, as George handed me some dry salt mackerel, he warned, "Look out da bone.")

The week progressed dizzily. Fortunately, the schedule included some moemoe (nap) time. Did I mention the food? Every afternoon and evening we were treated to a spread of meat, fish, white rice, and macaroni salad, a Hawaiian favorite. For a special treat on the final Saturday, George and his helpers served us laulau: rice and assorted ingredients wrapped and steamed in the bittersweet ti leaf, prepared by our fellow students.

One of my favorite nights was spent just chilling by the pool, listening to Carlos Andrade (a Hemingway-esque figure and University of Hawaii scholar who's sailed the giant canoes from Hawaii to Tahiti), Ozzie Kotani, and Cyril Pahinui jam. Cyril wrapped up that night with a quick rendition of John Lennon's "Jealous Guy." lf there's a better guitarist than Mr. Pahinui, I haven't heard him.

We visited a real taro patch on Thursday, driving 20 miles up winding coastal Highway 30 to reach some land owned by George's extended family. As we arrived, George told us to lock our cars and park off the road. Not all Hawaiians have shared in the bounty of tourism, nor do they want to. The piercing stare-stink eye-of a local boy on a moped conveyed the other side of paradise.

Once on the family land, we happily plodded up a dirt path, picking mountain apples en route. George was a farmer and quickly identified any plant we asked him about. Next thing we knew, a handful of campers were ankle-deep in the taro patches pulling weeds, while the rest hacked leaves that would be laid on the muddy bottom. Of course we brought our guitars, so lunch included a kanikapila.

We got back to Camp Slack in time for the chanting and kane (male) hula. Kumu (teacher) Danny Palakiko reminded us, while we struggled with the multisyllabic chants, that "there is no shame in family." It was refreshing to hear, especially since I would be dancing my first hula in front of a few hundred people at the Maui SIack Key Festival on Sunday. Make that my second--that night, after dinner, we hula dancers gave our fellow pupils a preview.

Friday and Saturday were occupied with formal lessons at the plush Ritz Carlton, up the road in Kapalua. We went from taro patch, to drop C (C G D G B D or G taro patch with the sixth string tuned down to C), to D wahine (George's favorite tuning, DAD F1I A CII). Back at the Mauian for the afternoon session, my strings said "uncle" while tuning to Cyril Pahinui's C (C G E G C E). But he just laughed and handed me a fresh E from one of the many packets he'd brought.

There was a bit of tension in the air on Sunday as we prepared for our onstage performance with George at the festival. We played two songs-the women danced the first, and the men, led by George, danced the second. There was no shame in family, truly, and we received a rousing round of applause. I'll forever treasure my aqua-blue lavalava (wrap-around skirt), which, thank Pele (the goddess of the volcano), didn't come unraveled while I was dancing.

The festival was magic. We cheered on our teachers: Kevin Brown, Cyril, and Dennis. In a spontaneous moment, student Puanani Edgar got onstage and danced a hula to "Lei Pikake." It was one of those touching revelations, like Kevin explaining the hidden meaning of the song "Ka Manu"-star-crossed lovers represented by a bird in flight-that brings a tear to my eye, especially the closing lyrics:

Ha'ina 'ia mai ana ka puana
Goodbye kaua me ka 'eha'eha
("The story is told
We say goodbye with great pain")

When Monday came, it was time to board our planes home, laden with books, tablature, and CDs. We packed some of the Hawaiian spirit in our suitcases as well, along with the flip-flops--"slippahs," in the local parlance--and crazy shirts. I feel like I've joined the community of ki ho'alu, and I'm reminded of that each time I shake a little sand out of my shoes or look at the ti-Ieaf lei dangling from my kitchen window. I'd never been to Hawaii before, but I've got a part of it with me always. For more information on the next Maui Slack-Key Workshop, click here.

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Copyright © 2004 String Letter Publishing, Inc.
From Acoustic Guitar, April 2004, issue 136,
© 2004 String Letter Publishing. All rights reserved.
For more information on Acoustic Guitar, contact String Letter Publishing, P.O. Box 767, San Anselmo, CA 94979; (415) 485-6946; Fax (415) 485-0831; www.stringletter.com.