Founded in Sydney, Australia in 2011, KAMUKE is a high-quality, hard-copy magazine produced by ukulele players for ukulele players. An entertaining mix of features, interviews, reviews, playing tips and historical articles, it’s the only publication of its kind in the world, and it fits inside a ukulele case
Stars: Ryan Gosling, Michelle Williams, Faith Wladyka
WITH the mighty uke on
the rise once again, it’s not surprising to see it popping up on the silver
screen more frequently. However, it is somewhat surprising – and refreshing – to
see the instrument featured in a gritty drama.
A love story with a difference, Derek Cianfrance’s Blue Valentine is a very good film. In fact, it’s basically two films in one. It opens in the present, where doting dad Dean (Gosling) is a part-time house painter and his wife Cindy (Williams) is an overworked resident at the local hospital. Their marriage is obviously strained, but Dean can’t seem to understand why. Rewind six years and we get to see the young couple falling madly in love, where it’s all hope, passion and, of course, ukulele serenades.
As the movie switches
between the time periods, more about Dean and Cindy’s intense relationship is
slowly revealed, and it becomes obvious that a physical and emotional boilover
is on the cards.
Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams, who was nominated for a Best Actress Oscar for her work, both deliver powerful performances, but don’t expect a typical Hollywood ending. We should have known things were going to go downhill when Dean started singing and strumming the old Mills Brothers hit You Always Hurt The One You Love.
This article originally appeared in Issue 4 of KAMUKE Ukulele Magazine, which is available in theStore
Since she began performing with a uke in 2000, Rose has been a fixture on the Australian ukulele scene and has been instrumental – pun very much intended – in popularising the instrument Down Under. In 2004, she organised a concert called Ukulele Land on Sydney’s famous Bondi Beach, which turned out to be quite a pivotal event.
English ukulele-banjo enthusiast Richard Maingôt tells KAMUKE the story behind his beautiful, custom-made Abbott Super De Luxe.
Photos: Alastair Murray
TIME seems to have slipped by almost unobtrusively since my introduction to the ukulele some 65 years ago, when I heard George Formby on a Saturday night entertainment program on the radio.
I was captivated, and motivated the next
day to respond to an advertisement in the Daily
Express by a firm called W. Davis offering a “genuine ukulele-banjo” for
the sum of 18 shillings and sixpence, payable at three shillings and sixpence a
month. By no stretch of imagination could this instrument be called a “genuine
ukulele-banjo”. It was very basic, but to me it represented the real thing.
My uke-banjo collection progressed over the
years in direct proportion to my income; a Melody and whole stable of Dallas
instruments. Most of my ukuleles were obtained from a little shop in Croydon,
Surrey, where I lived. The owner of this musical emporium was a small, red-nosed
alcoholic who always welcomed me because my purchases enabled him to shut up
shop and retire to the sanctuary of the pub next door.
In the early 1960s, my wife and I moved to a village just south of Manchester and it was there that I was introduced to Harold Fallows. Harold was an interesting man, who, through his work in the theatre, had got to know George Formby very well. Through Harold, I became a member of The George Formby Society. Some of the virtuosos I met there were nothing less than brilliant. Ray Bernard was such a player. He had a wonderful personality and was one of the most generous and helpful men I ever met. From Ray, I learnt to do the Formby ‘split stroke’ and some of his other excellent techniques.
It was in Burslem, now part of Stoke-on-Trent, that I met Jack Abbott Jr and established a friendship with him which lasted until his death. In the mid-1970s, I commissioned Jack to make me the best ukulele-banjo he had ever made. This, I believe, he did.
The vellum is signed by renowned English uke player Alan Randall
While he’s not an international star, Charles Altmann is an integral part of the ukulele scene in Sydney, Australia. At the age of 91, he’s still extremely active and an inspiration to many. And he has a fascinating story to tell!
HE WASN’T the greatest
player by a long shot, but Tiny Tim is as important in the history of the
ukulele as anyone else who ever picked up the instrument.
Born Herbert Khaury in
New York City on April 12, 1932, he was fascinated with music from an early
age. Herbie absorbed popular tunes from the 1890s to the 1930s like a sponge and,
after dropping out of high school, turned his attention to becoming a star.
In the 1950s, American
media personality Arthur Godfrey championed the ukulele, and like nine million
others Herbie bought himself a plastic Maccaferri Islander after Godfrey gave
it a ringing endorsement on the air. It was the second uke Herbie owned, but it
wouldn’t be the last. For most of his career, he played a Martin soprano, although
towards the end of his life he also strummed a concert resonator that was given
to him by his third wife on his 64th birthday.
Following a lot of ups
and downs (mostly downs) in the ’50s, the artist now known as Tiny Tim started
to make an impact in the thriving Greenwich Village music scene of the early ’60s.
Towards the end of the decade, everything was going right for Tiny. In 1968, he
released God Bless Tiny Tim, the
album that included his biggest hit, Tip-Toe
Thru’ The Tulips With Me, and he played a once-in-a-lifetime show at
London’s Royal Albert Hall. On December 17, 1969, Tiny married Victoria
Budinger aka Miss Vicki on The Tonight
Show Starring Johnny Carson in front of 40 million viewers, cementing him
as one of the best-known men in the world.
Over the succeeding
decades, Tiny’s fame waned and society’s perception of him changed. Still
craving the spotlight, he was happy to be thought of as nothing more than an oddity
– anything to keep him in the public consciousness.
With the Third Wave of
Uke came fresh opportunities for Tiny. He started appearing at festivals, but
his health was on the decline. At the Ukulele Hall of Fame Museum’s Ukulele
Expo ’96 in Massachusetts, Tiny had a minor heart attack and collapsed on
stage. On November 30, 1996, following a gig at The Woman’s Club of Minneapolis
and still holding his Martin, he suffered a massive heart attack and died.
From the late 1960s to
the early 1990s, the name Tiny Tim was synonymous with the ukulele, much in the
way George Formby had been in the 1940s and Jake Shimabukuro is now. At a time
when the instrument was taking a back seat to the guitar and electronic music, Tiny
was proudly flying the four-string flag. No matter what you think of his music,
he was the bridge between the Second and Third Waves, and for that KAMUKE thanks him. God bless Tiny Tim.
BORN George Hoy Booth on May 26, 1904 in
Wigan, England, one of the greatest ukulele players who ever lived almost didn’t
pick up the instrument.
The son of an Edwardian music hall star who
never wanted any of his family to enter show business, George was forced to
become an apprentice jockey at age seven and rode in his first professional
race when he was 10.
Following his father’s unexpected death in
1921, George was encouraged by his mother to perform his dad’s old material, so
he took to the stage. Spectacularly unsuccessful at first, he bought a banjo-ukulele
from a fellow actor and accepted a bet that he wouldn’t play it in his act. Naturally,
the audience loved the uke and George was soon topping the bill all over the
By 1932, he had adopted his father’s stage
name of ‘Formby’ and had his first hit record with a funny song called Chinese Laundry Blues. In 1934, George starred
in a high-grossing comedy called Boots!
Boots! and subsequently signed a contract worth an incredible £100,000 to
make a further 11 films with Associated Talking Pictures. He later agreed to
make another seven movies for US studio Columbia for the mind-blowing sum of
With the help of his shrewd wife Beryl, George
Formby became the top comedian in Britain between 1934 and 1945, and also found
considerable fame in Canada, Australia, New Zealand and South Africa. In 1946, he
received an OBE (Order of the British Empire) for his tireless work
entertaining Allied forces in Europe and North Africa during World War II. In
fact, he was one of the first entertainers to enter Normandy after the D-Day
invasion, where he was personally invited by General Montgomery to play for the
In 1951, while
starring in a critically acclaimed West End musical called Zip Goes a Million, Formby suffered a heart attack and was forced
to leave the show. He went back to work 18 months later, but it didn’t last as
long as it should have. After another heart attack, George Formby died on March 6, 1961, aged 56.
But even though the great man is gone, he’ll never be forgotten. Songs such as Leaning On A Lamp Post and The Window Cleaner have become timeless classics, and ukulele players everywhere have been trying to emulate his legendary ‘split stroke’ for more than 70 years. To quote his much-loved catchphrase, “It’s turned out nice again!”
Every year, people in the music industry gather at the Anaheim Convention Center in California, USA, for The NAMM Show. Over the past few years, the ukulele presence has grown and grown. This year, I was lucky enough to be invited by Romero Creations to play at their booth. I met a lot of old friends, such as jazz uke legend Benny Chong, and made many new ones, such as Hawaiian uke and slack-key guitar artist Garrett Probst. Special thanks to Pepe Romero Jr and Daniel Ho for their friendship and inspiration…
June 1, 1949 – a young man named Robert Fernandez left the Hawaiian islands for the first time, on his way to New York to accept his appointment at the United States Military Academy West Point. Not yet 19, Robert left with big dreams in his head, love for Hawaii in his heart and a Kamaka ukulele in his hand. Throughout his 30-year military career, Robert carried that little soprano ukulele with him. Upon his retirement in May 1978, Colonel Fernandez could focus on other endeavors, including pursuing a master’s degree, performing in the theater and spending time with his family. Parties, “kanikapila” (impromptu jam sessions) and smiles seemed to follow Robert wherever he went. All the while, his ukulele by his side.
On June 9, 2018, Col. Robert Nolasco Fernandez passed away surrounded by his loving family, including four children, seven grandchildren and three great-grandchildren. The precious ukulele was passed down to Col. Fernandez’s son, Robbie, who happens to be my best friend. That’s where I come in.
Knowing that I’m a luthier, Robbie asked me if I could refurbish his dad’s ukulele, and maybe upgrade it with some inlays as a tribute to his dad. I was honored to be asked to work on this very special instrument. Up until then, I had only seen it in pictures, Robert smiling brightly as he strummed it at a party. As I held the instrument in my hand, I was surprised by just how small this thing actually was. I’m used to making jumbo-bodied acoustic guitars, so a ukulele that tops out at 18” (46cm) long is a bit of a novelty. I also noticed that this instrument was well loved. The years of playing had worn the koa top thin, the constant warmth and sweat had started to separate the top from the sides and the wood was dry and brittle. I could tell I had my work cut out for me.
I started off with a full disassembly, every part came off. I steamed the top and back to separate it from the sides (the bridge had fallen off some time ago), the neck was removed, all the internal bracing was removed and the tuners and hardware was stripped. For the first time since it was assembled in Hawaii in the ’40s, this ukulele was back to its basic elements. As I carefully removed and catalogued the pieces, I noticed the Kamaka tag was in very bad shape, pieces flaking off at the slightest movement. This was concerning, as I wanted the instrument to remain original. Once I had the uke apart, it was time to clean up and condition the wood. Years of travel and several vastly different climates had taken their toll on every piece.
As I worked on restoring the core of this instrument, I met with the family to design the tribute aspects of the piece. It was clear that the family wanted to focus on Robert’s distinguished military career. Several meetings later, it was decided: a mother-of-pearl Colonel insignia was to adorn the fretboard, a tribute to his Hawaiian roots on the headstock and a large inlay of the West Point crest on the back. Knowing what this would take, and knowing I was to present this to the family at the memorial at Arlington National Cemetery in a few short months, it was time to dive in and get to it.
Having already cleaned up and sanded every wooden part, I now had a beautiful hardwood canvas from which to work. I drew up what I wanted to inlay and cut out the pieces, 53 in all. I smiled at that because Col. Fernandez graduated from West Point in 1953. With all my inlay cut, it was time to route and glue the pieces in to the body. Then came the sanding and final detailing, which was the most time consuming and tedious part. I don’t use CNC machines or laser engravers in my shop, all my work is by hand. As I detailed the crest on the back, I began to see what I envisioned from the start: a beautifully restored instrument and inlay tributes that are worthy of the man they honor.
Through the process, I encountered issues with one part or another. The butt joint, where the sides meet, was separating and was a bit unsightly. Also, the top was badly worn away from constant play. If a particular area didn’t meet my standards, I had to come up with a solution, one that not only fixed the problem, but also kept with the original look of the instrument. I was able to inlay some beautiful pāua abalone to fill in where needed. As I previously mentioned, the Kamaka label was in bad shape and I was heartbroken I couldn’t save it. I did, however, come up with an acceptable alternative. I contacted the Kamaka ukulele company in Honolulu, Hawaii and told them about my project and the man it was honoring. I was overwhelmed by their willingness to help, providing me with an original ’40s “gold label”, inscribed with “Col. Robert N. Fernandez” and signed by both Samuel Kamaka and his brother Fred Kamaka, the latter a retired Lt. Col. who also wrote an amazing letter recounting fond memories spent with Robert and his family, playing ukulele on the beach and “sharing aloha”.
As anybody who knows me will tell you, I don’t do anything halfway. I tend to jump into anything I do with both feet and this was no exception. I already had an authentic 1940s Kamaka label and a wonderful letter from the Kamakas themselves. I wanted to do more. Having obtained permission to use the West Point crest from the Licensing and Trademark office, the ukulele’s story made its way to the office of Hawaii’s governor, David Ige. I was honored by a call from his office and offered a beautifully written memoriam from his office. Add to that a special Congressional Recognition from US Senator Mazie Hirono’s office and I had the makings of a pretty special presentation come October.
I flew out to Washington DC with the family. I made a special walnut presentation box fashioned after a military ammunition crate and carried it on the flight the whole way. The family hadn’t seen any progress on the instrument, a standard practice for my shop. Nobody sees the instrument until it’s meant to be unveiled. The morning of the memorial, I secured the ukulele in Patton Hall, where we were to gather after the service. It was then that I let my buddy Robbie see the restored ukulele for the first time. I’ve done a few memorable reveals, but this one will always have a special place in my heart. The sheer awe and emotion that Robbie expressed was all I needed to assure me that expectations were exceeded.
We gathered in the Old Post Chapel for the service, after which we all walked behind the caisson, slowly, making our way to the gravesite. All the while, the United States Army Band, “Pershing’s Own” played out strong. After the beautiful ceremony, we made our way to Patton Hall, where I was pleased to unveil and present the ukulele to the family, all of whom know the instrument well. I was humbled to hear all the compliments and praise for my work and was proud to know I accomplished what I set out to do – honor a great Hawaiian man, a soldier, a family man and a musician. It is my hope that the aloha spirit Robert spread throughout this world will forever live on through this instrument.