There's a whole station of nothing but "Island Music" called "Surf 95.9." I think Joel Agnew (who lives on Maui) works for the radio group that owns it, because I swear I heard his voice on a PSA.
Right now you're like "Island music? Lots of ukelele?" You wish.
Oh my. That music is terrible. Tear-uh-bull.
What's it sound like? Let's start with a pop-reggae base, then:
1. Dumb the lyrical vocabulary down to about the 8th grade (strike 1)
2. Use synthesized horns that do not sound remotely like horns (strike 2)
3. Remove any hint of real percussion, replace with mid-80s drum machines (strike 5)
Jah-waiian, they call it, and it hates subtlety as much as it hates graphic design. Besides rote calls for revolution and one-love, you can enjoy love songs and party jams, with song titles like "Love Song" and "Party Jam."
OK, I guess it's only as terrible as pop on the mainland (New Country Music, I'm looking at you). Just with, like, worse production value and lyrics that scrape out new depths of meaninglessness:
"Haleakala, the temple of the sun....
"We're just having fun. No need to run, no need to packa gun."
(Repeat 12 times)
Oh man.
Right then, I bet the songwriter was like "Let's see....I've got two things that end in 'un' and I need a third..." and didn't rightfully reject the very first idea.
Like anything, it's just another example of the mainstream giving you the dumbest version. There was a killer show on KKCR that had more traditional island music, songs of sovereignty, and some scratchy recordings of old-timey Hawaiian stuff that was truly compelling.
To Jah-waiian's credit, it is relentlessly positive and upbeat, which is preferrable to bad-boy anthems. Also in the "plus" column is that at least it has a local feel. And the station has a strong colloquial sound with Pidgin-accented DJs. It's ad breaks sound full, so it's got support. So, more power to them. We're listening, right?
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Before leaving, I brought a hat from Target. Twelve bucks to keep skin cancer at bay? Fair enough. Yes, I knew it looked really touristy. Sara has now ruled that it looks *far* too lame, and historically, she often let me take "lame" right up to the limit with nary a complaint.
So, while she was with Sasha, I bought a new hat. Upon seeing it, Sara has ruled against that hat, too. She said it was a "jerkface" hat. Tourist or jerkface, I should stop buying hats. I'm not sure which one is worse.
You make the call:
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Sasha can now say "Bellybutton"
and show you where it is. She can also climb up to the couch herself.Sara and Sasha finally got some sunny beach time (it's been cloudy/windy/rainy/sunny). I think a little sunburn might have occurred.
Sasha's whole sleeping and eating routine has been pretty rough. Her Girl Interrupted shenanigans just led to a screaming fit at 10pm, which is two hours past her regular bedtime. Supposedly, since we're not killing her, we're making her stronger?
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If someone said, "You must eat your way to the bottom of this bathtub full of creamy, crunchy Moana Loa macadamia nuts," there would be zero hesitation on my part. Who doesn't love those nuts?
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