As a young and aspiring musician growing up in Honolulu, HI, I constantly sought out new inspiration and modes of instruction. My career as a double bassist had humble beginnings—starting by jamming with my dad as he took slack-key guitar lessons with Auntie Alice Namakelua. Although I eventually went on to study classical and jazz music in college at New England Conservatory (Boston, MA), my heart and musical intuition has never strayed far from Hawai`i.
Even as an 8 year-old, I was fascinated with Arthur Lymanʻs music
My grandfather Mun Charn Wong (known to his friends as “MC” and to me as kungkung—the Chinese phrase for ʻgrandfatherʻ) was a major influence in my development as a musician. One of my favorite sayings of his was, “You donʻt know where youʻre going unless you know where you came from.” It wasnʻt until I began WAITIKI INTERNATIONAL (and subsequently, The WAITIKI 7) that I really understood what he meant.
Kungkung MC often would treat my family and I to prime rib buffet dinners at Waialae Country Club, where he was a member. I remember to this day: the food was exquisite; the prime rib was so tender and succulent, the au jus was pretty unnecessary. I was pretty skinny back then, and at the time, I thought kungkungʻs intentions were to help me get some meat on my bones… (it certainly worked; Iʻm no longer as skinny now as I was then). I later learned that he wanted me to be inspired by his friend Arthur Lyman, a dear friend of his who performed whenever the Club held its prime rib buffet.
I donʻt remember when I first met Mr. Lyman, but by the time I was in high school and gigging as a double bassist, I knew him well enough to bring my bass down to the Club and sit in on a few tunes. I only knew a few tunes back then, but he was kind and played what I knew—”Satin Doll” was a favorite of mine at the time, and thereʻs something about the way he played the melody that Iʻll never forget (but canʻt easily describe).
His specialty at the Club was playing Hawaiian ballads. “Sea Breeze,” “He Aloha No Honolulu,” and “Yellow Bird” were done regularly. I didnʻt know much about the vibraphone back then, and had never seen anyone other than him play, and thus didnʻt realize how special his 4-mallet realization of those melodies was. What I do remember is the variety and subtlety of his bird calls; they really added to the music, and along with his 4-mallet stuff, I was easily transported out of the Waialae CC dining room and into a jungle all my own.
Unfortunately, I never saw Mr. Lyman perform with his exotica comrades, nor did I even know what exotica was at the time. It wasnʻt until college when I began learning about exotica, and shortly thereafter (while I was on the Mainland) Mr. Lyman passed away from throat cancer. I suppose this is one of those great examples of, “If only I knew then what Iʻm doing now,” because even with the richness and authenticity of work being carried out by The WAITIKI 7, there is still much to be done. The legacies of Mr. Lyman, Augie Colon (Lopakaʻs dad), Mr. Denny, and their colleagues leave us large shoes to fill indeed.
—Randy Wong
