Before the Kapakahi Jug Band came together, the spirit of the thing was jazzing around somewhere out there looking for a voice. You see, human situations as old as love, jealousy and the blues inspire the heart to create music- the surefire elixir - remedy to a world of woes.
Jug Band music is by nature accessible to everyone. Put together a clothesline, a broomstick and a washtub and you get a 'gutbucket' bass; a washboard and wooden spoons take the place of a standard rhythm section; a ceramic jug replaces a tuba; a comb covered with a piece of waxed paper takes the place of a trombone; and someone usually has a guitar, banjo or fiddle. The resultant 'sound' is unique to Jug Bands, and there are many variations on this theme.
This recording of the Kapakahi Jug Band was made in Honolulu in 1981 at the zenith of a musical confluence that has spanned over forty years. It all began when, teen-aged (and wise beyond her years) Jan Killam's All Girl Jugless Jug Band showed a glimpse of ankle in 1965 on a talent show stage at Punahou School. That pheromone wafting in the Manoa valley breeze drew the folk-savvy banjo player and bohemian artist Pan Wilson down from his meditations in a mountain cave. Washtub bass-playing University of Hawaii art professor Duane Preble, with a background in West Coast skiffle bands, knew a good groove when he heard it, and invited Jan and Pan to play with him at his 'Art From Recycled Waste' exhibition.
From that time forward, many players contributed to the band, culminating in the configuration that appears on this album. This 1981 grouping, sadly never to be reconvened in this earthly sphere, includes the already mentioned Jan, Pan and Duane, as well as the irrepressible, irreplaceable raconteur, jug and washboard player Richard "Pee Wee" Drake; the late great Dean of the Hawaiian Musical Saw, Jeremy T. Stewart; Janice Hanley (she, the speech pathologist with the pipes to sooth the savage soul); Autumn "Lil' A" Hancock (that statuesque fiddler with the killer riffs); surferdude, sawmiller, guitarmaker and strummer Bart Potter (who brought the beer so they let him play); and Don Sharp whose infectious horn chops unfailingly ratcheted up the adrenaline several notches. Kapakahi was and is about fun--in Pee Wee's words, "If we'd wanted it slick we would have practiced."
