It is almost the end of the month and I am finally managing to write about the Fourth of July. That is a testament to my (lack of) ability to stay on top of my posting. Though I never intended for this to be a multi-post-per-day kind of blog, this kind of slacking is definitive proof that I am not cut out for the blogosphere. I need some lessons from my wife, who just now looked over my shoulder and commented about the timing of this entry.
There’s not really much to say about the day. We spent most of the day on the beach, as did the rest of the state, by the looks of it. Waikiki is usually tourist territory, but on the fourth the locals poured out of the mountains to camp out for three days of barbecues and blowing shit up.
I guess I intended for this post to be more a random reflection on my impressions of this most American of holidays, my first in nine years.
The names by which the holiday goes have already been co-opted by two Hollywood flicks that pretty much sum up the gamut of emotions and associations the fourth stirs up. I couldn’t start writing this post without thinking of them – maybe more a reflection of my diseased pop culture-riddled mind than any profound statement on the state of the nation… But I reckon I’m not alone in having such thoughts.
Let’s look at these movies more closely, which are, in their respective ways, tied pretty deeply to what Independence Day is all about: empowerment through violence. The former movie, is, in typical Oliver Stone fashion, a rejection of such values. It views this force, which once upon a time united a people to liberate themselves from a bunch of tea-drinking, wig-wearing, oppressive-tax-imposing poms, as ultimately corrosive. The latter is a piece of comic bookish, lightweight, idiotic fluff featuring a whole lot of pyrotechnics and empty speechifying. Leaving aside the question of how firmly the producers’ tongues were planted in cheek, the flick appears to be intended as a celebration of that plucky American spirit that, in our mythology, is adept at throwing off the yoke of oppression, usually in a way that involves blowing up lots of shit.
In Hawaii there don’t seem to be any laws controlling the detonation of fireworks, and in and around Kapiolani Park Beach, where we had settled to watch the Ala Moana fireworks, everyone was setting off firecrackers, cherry bombs and sparklers. The constant explosions sent a fog of smoke drifting out across the water. Closing one’s eyes, it might have sounded very much like one of the war zones where US troops are engaged, with the chatter of gunfire and shouting soldiers constantly in the background.
In reality, it was a true celebration of that irrepressible American optimism, and a ritual bonding. There were tourists on the beach, and there were locals, all coming together to recognize a common feeling. There were no patriotic speeches or moments of silence for fallen comrades in distant lands. Maybe those subtexts were there, unspoken, but more than that, it was about enjoying a national spirit. If the expression of that is kind of primordial – the grilling of meat and the exploding of toy bombs – well, yes, you can read a lot into that, but the sense of fun and kinship it brings is undeniable.
Happy belated fourth!
First off, yes, the ukulele is, on the surface, a rather gay instrument. It’s a toy guitar, for christ’s sake. The sight of island legend IZ, a Samoan in the truest sense, pawing a ukulele, is, to the non-islander, nearly comical.
That said, I was mega-stoked to see virtuoso ukulele meister Jake Shimabukuro at the pre-fourth festivities at Aloha Tower Marketplace. He is to the ukulele what Bela Fleck is to the banjo – in fact, they have toured together. Like Bela, Jake has not been content to let his chosen instrument be defined by the traditional music attached to it. Yes, he is a master of local island music, and everything he plays is necessarily inflected with aloha, but his play is freed of genre, crossing into jazz, rock and classical.
Caveat on Aloha Tower: I had heard that the shopping/entertainment center was, like many local, tourist-dependent businesses, struggling to compete in challenging times. Its location is a mixed blessing – superb on-the-harbor setting with historical cred, but far from Waikiki, not easily accessible and nearly invisible from Nimitz Highway. It hasn’t done a great job of cashing in on the locational strengths and innovated enough to give folks – local or non – a compelling reason to make the trek.
This was evident in the way the whole event was managed. Ostensibly it was a pre-fourth celebration with fireworks and Jake as centerpiece entertainer. But there were numerous stages throughout the facility, none clearly marked. Luckily I stumbled upon the modest waterfront stage where Jake’s performance was already underway. But what was this? Not 100 yards away, on-stage at Gordon Biersch’s, a soul-funk band was pounding out the Top 20 party classics. Suffice to say it is a bit hard to enjoy the nuances of a solo ukulele when Play That Funky Music White Boy is blasting in your other ear.
Jake, humble, good-natured soul that he is, took it all in stride, joking it off.
And then, in mid-show, Jake was suddenly joined by the VERY EXCITED KCCN FM 100 MC who loves Jake’s music so much he decided to take ten minutes out of his timeslot to share it with everyone – and thank the sponsors – plus, a free ukulele giveaway! Sheesh. It didn’t seem that Jake had even been informed this was going to happen, but again he rolled with it.
The shabby setup made me wonder if there was any ill will toward the local-boy-made-good who spends most of his time these days touring the mainland… Or was it just bad organizing?
And then Jake played his finale: Star Spangled Banner. It wasn’t Hendrix or anything, but goddamn he sure does make that little guitar sing.
I have long been a passionate advocate of excellence in brewing, at least in terms of how I wield my power as a consumer. And while my beer knowledge may not be as robust as I imagine, my gut doesn’t usually lead me astray.
In my many years in Japan, the Gordon Biersch brand easily dipped under my radar, but I became acquainted through a recent supermarket purchase that started with a sale sticker. I bought a case of pilsner and was not disappointed. A flavorful lager indeed, in the German mold.
Little did I know, they do food too – brewpub style, a la TY Harbor (a destination any Tokyo gaijin worth his salt should know). Unfortunately, their food is no match for their beer, as we were to discover on our (my) pre-fourth mission to watch a free show by ukulele virtuoso Jake Shimabukuro (more on that in the next post).
On the plus side, Gordon Biersch’s ambience is easily the most inviting of any of the Aloha Tower eateries – save the upscale Chai’s Island Bistro. I mean, it’s either there or Hooters. Mmm, Hooters…
Where was I? Ambience. High ceilings, dark wood, hanging lights, outdoor bar overlooking the bay – for a chain the place really has a nice feel. It is a shame, then, that the food doesn’t aspire to anything beyond chain level. But then, I guess that’s what makes the prices competitive with other Aloha Tower restaurants. A crab shrimp salad with pita was bland, and a macadamia-encrusted mahi-mahi was flavory, but kind of garish.
