Jake Shimabukuro (with the accent on the “bu” part, if you’re curious), performed at Chico’s Laxson auditorium last night to a very appreciative crowd and I was on hand for the fun. I’ve been fortunate enough to hear most of the ukulele “greats” in live performances, but I’d never attended a concert by Jake (I also don’t have Herb Ohta on my “heard live” yet list—but maybe someday!). Before I set out for the drive down the hill to Chico I checked with friends on the Flea Market Music Board about what I should expect and, without exception, everyone who’d met him before commented not only about the great show he’d be sure to put on, but also about Jake’s humility and warmth with his fans. Frankly, I took that with a grain of salt—I mean, this guy is talented beyond imagine, he tours worldwide and he’s just, well, “famous.” How warm could he really be toward a total stranger (but, admittedly, a fellow ukulele enthusiast)?
My doubts were misplaced. Jake’s stage persona seems an extension of a really nice guy—or at least that’s how it was last night for those of us lucky enough to be in the audience. A few times when introducing songs he’d start digressing a bit and “talk story” with us, sharing how a certain song developed for him or what triggered him to write it and, instead of neatly summing it up, he began sharing more than you thought he’d first intended to (like his amazement at the true beauty of a model he’d shared the set with on the taping of the Conan O’Brien show or the taste of fugu—“so fresh it still was moving a bit”—during a recent tour in Japan). There was something really vulnerable and authentic about it, even though he was on stage in front of hundreds of people. He even mentioned a favorite “treat” of going to the Pearl City Tavern as a youngster and watching the monkeys (in the “monkey bar” there), drinking Shirley Temples and eating escargot; my Dad, who’d lived on Oahu in the 1950s, had often told me about the Pearl City Tavern and the monkeys—it was fun to hear Jake refer to it, too, from his childhood.
Jake’s set included, of course, “My Guitar Gently Weeps”—also, of course, performed flawlessly but with a wonderful sense of “connection” with the song. Others which I recall he played included “Ave Maria,” “Me and Shirley T,” “Going to California,” and a batch from my Jake CDs which I recognize but have never put the name with.What was especially enjoyable was listening—and watching—the interaction between Jake and Joe Craven (who’d opened the show) as they did an improv jam for the concert’s last song. Joe began on the fiddle, moved to the bongos, “mouth” percussives (must be seen to be believed) and ended on the mandolin while Jake joined him on the ukulele. The two musicians leaned into each other, intent only on the joint music they were making and the sounds and rhythm flowed magically between them until concluding with a final, astoundingly clear, musical finish—with Jake’s right hand doing his so-recognizably bold final strum down, tucking the ukulele into his body, head down. Wow!Heading out to the lobby after the performance, I was happy to see so many members of Ukuleles of Paradise had attended the concert, too; by my count, our tiny group brought the audience attendance up by 22 more ticket holders. And our group members all had new Jake CDs in their hands!
Jake signed autographs after the show. I’d brought along my “Play Loud Ukulele” DVD and a Sharpie; Jake’s scrawled signature on the poster inside the DVD testifies to my being there in person. Frankly, though, I didn’t really *need* a signature from Jake—I just used the autographing as an excuse to talk with him—albeit briefly (he looked a bit tired and I know his schedule has him performing back in Hawaii by tomorrow). I asked about his new Kamaka (he smiled and said he really liked it), the tuning of the instrument (“High G; I’ve only done one recording, I think, in low G,” was his response, “And that was a long time ago”), and a few other comments about playing ukulele and joint acquaintances. After posing for the photo you see here (thanks, Mark, for being my official photographer), Jake had a final word: “Good luck with your ukulele playing,” he smiled.I’ll bet he can’t even guess how much luck I need!