“Even when I’m in the studio, I’m imagining my whole ohana or family playing with me,” he says. “I look on myself as being the leftover—the DNA—of all the culture.”
“Recently, I had a delightful meeting with the larger-than-life Renaissance-man George Kahumoku Jr. I am not a follower of Hawaiian music, so I did not know that I was meeting such a distinguished musician, who lives on a farm on Maui.
“Ever wonder what actually happens when an artist wins a Grammy, accepts the award, and then disappears off the stage? Well, my friends, I experienced this whirlwind with a handful of Hawaiians who picked up their fourth award in five years.
We fished and planted by the moon. We found that the three nights before the full moon called Po ‘Akua, Po Hoku and Po Mahealani were best for planting taro. We sometimes planted taro on Hilo or new moon.
I met George carrying his 12-string guitar (along with his ubiquitous box of organic bananas) in a parking lot, and he told me the good news: he had been nominated for his fifth Grammy award.
One of my favorite reasons for planting taro (besides eating) is for the spiritual link to my ancestral older brother, the Kalo. It reminds me of where I came from and where I’m going. Taro also needs the inter-relationship with man in order to survive and do well. This show of affection.