#829- Curly Koa Soprano Ukulele

It’s an eternal struggle for me to balance old and new ideas. I love the old Hawaiian instruments, but I also want to improve upon the past and try my own ideas. The Koa soprano is the perfect vehicle for that, as I strive for the vintage sparkle while adding some warmth and sustain. I also tried for that balance with the aesthetics, with traditional rope binding and classic Curly Koa with Pistachio and my modern shapes. The Koa body is from our friend’s sawmill on O’ahu, the Koa neck is from our friend Cath and the Pistachio is from California orchards. In order to pay back for using this Koa, we will donate to plant more trees through Saving Hawaii’s Forests.

It has arrived. It’s unharmed, it’s gorgeous and it sounds fantastic. It has exactly the sound you were going for—hitting the target perfectly. Not too deep, not too high. Right in the sweet spot, encompassing both.

Aside from the sound being so great, the wood is really amazing. It’s almost like a lenticular photograph, looking different depending on the angle you look at it and the light hitting. From one angle, it looks like it’s made of pretty wood with a lovely, placid grain, but then either you or the light shifts a bit, and suddenly these bold, amazing tiger stripes appear.

It really made me think about the knowledge and instinct that goes into making instruments—of taking different woods with different qualities and bringing them into convergence with well-considered construction techniques to create a particularly sought-after sound. I marvel at the talent.

I remember years ago the late Robert Wheeler, famous for having 300 ukuleles, sat down with me and let me strum different ukuleles, both vintage and new, that he’d selected from his collection. He would tell me the wood used in the construction of a given ukulele, then let me play to hear the sound. Instruments of the same wood sounded different, and sometimes mahogany sounded like koa and koa sounded like mahogany. His point was that it’s more than just the wood. It’s the luthier.

I thought of that lesson while playing this uke. Ukuleles look the same more or less—give or take a fancy grain—and so when a lay person plays one, why ukes that look the same sound different is a mystery. And so, when a ukulele sounds truly wonderful, it seems like magic—as though something special has been instilled in it by a magician. I know it’s actually skill and knowledge and instinct and not magic. But it feels like magic. So I’ll think of it that way. Thanks for the magic, Aaron.

- B. R.