It happened at 3:00 AM. A massive man walked into a recording studio in Honolulu, sat down with a tiny ukulele, and changed music history in exactly one take. No warm-ups. No fancy equipment. Just a man named Israel Kamakawiwoʻole, known to everyone in Hawaii as "Iz," pouring his soul into a medley that most people didn't even think would work.
The song was Somewhere Over the Rainbow, but it wasn't the Judy Garland version. Not really.
Honestly, when Milan Bertosa, the recording engineer that night, took the call from a client at two in the morning saying a 500-pound man wanted to come in and record, he almost said no. He was tired. He wanted to go home. But Iz showed up, polite and breathing heavy, and when he started playing those first few strums on his Martin tenor ukulele, the room changed. That’s not hyperbole. People who were there say the air felt different.
The Night Iz Over the Rainbow Changed Everything
Most of us hear this song at weddings or funerals. It’s a staple of "feel-good" playlists. But the actual recording of Somewhere Over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful World was a moment of pure, raw spontaneity.
Iz didn't have a sheet of lyrics. He didn't have a metronome. He actually messes up the lyrics in the middle—if you listen closely, he mixes up the verses of "What a Wonderful World" and "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" quite a bit. But it didn't matter. The raw emotion outweighed the technical perfection.
Why does this specific version resonate so much?
It’s the contrast. You have this incredibly large, imposing man with a voice that sounds like a gentle breeze. It’s fragile. It’s sweet. It’s also deeply sad when you know the context of his life. Iz was a staunch advocate for Hawaiian sovereignty. He wasn't just a singer; he was a symbol of a culture that felt it was losing its grip on its own land. When he sang about a land "that I heard of once in a lullaby," he wasn't just thinking about Oz. He was thinking about Hawaii.
Breaking Down the Ukulele Style
If you try to play this song yourself, you’ll realize it's deceptively simple. He uses a G, C, Em, F progression for the most part. But the "Iz" sound comes from his unique strumming pattern. He had these very thick fingers, yet he moved them with the precision of a surgeon.
- He used a high-G tuning on a tenor uke.
- The rhythm is a syncopated "down, down-up, up-down-up" that gives it that island swing.
- He emphasizes the "off" beats, which creates that relaxed, "it's gonna be okay" vibe.
People often ask why he chose to mash it up with Louis Armstrong’s classic. He didn't really plan it. He just felt the two songs belonged together. It was a meditation on hope.
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The Health Struggles Behind the Voice
We have to talk about the reality of his life. It wasn't all rainbows. By the time that song became a global phenomenon, Iz was in a dire health situation. Morbid obesity is a clinical term, but for Iz, it was a daily battle with his own body. He eventually reached over 750 pounds.
He had to be hoisted onto stages. He used oxygen tanks.
When you hear that breathy quality in Somewhere Over the Rainbow, part of that is his incredible vocal control, but part of it is the sheer physical effort it took for him to breathe. It adds a layer of mortality to the song. You can hear the life leaving him and entering the music at the same time.
He died in 1997 at the age of 38. He never got to see the song spend 185 weeks at number one on the Billboard World Digital Songs chart. He never saw it used in 50 First Dates or Meet Joe Black. He was gone before the world fully realized what he’d given them.
What People Get Wrong About the Recording
There’s a common myth that this was a heavily produced track. Nope.
It was one microphone. One take. Bertosa later said he was terrified the whole time that the equipment would fail because he’d never recorded anything so quiet yet so powerful. After Iz finished, Bertosa handed him the tape, and that was it. The track sat on a shelf for years before it was finally put on the 1993 album Facing Future.
Facing Future went on to become the best-selling album by a Hawaiian artist of all time. Not because of a massive marketing budget, but because of word of mouth. People heard that voice and had to know who it was.
The Cultural Weight of a Medley
To understand Somewhere Over the Rainbow in the context of Israel Kamakawiwoʻole, you have to understand the "Hawaiian Renaissance." This was a period starting in the 70s where young Hawaiians started pushing back against the "plastic" version of their culture sold to tourists.
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Iz was a founding member of the Mākaha Sons of Niʻihau. They played traditional music. They sang in the Hawaiian language.
So, when Iz—this massive, proud Hawaiian man—decided to cover an American standard from an MGM musical, it was a political statement. He was reclaiming a piece of the "outside" world and making it Hawaiian. He softened it. He made it about the ʻāina (the land).
The Funeral That Stopped a State
If you want proof of his impact, look at the footage of his funeral. His koa wood coffin lay in state at the Hawaii State Capitol building in Honolulu. Only two other people had ever been given that honor, and both were high-ranking politicians.
Ten thousand people showed up.
When they scattered his ashes into the Pacific Ocean at Mākaha Beach, the beach was lined with people, and the water was filled with surfers and outrigger canoes. People were cheering and honking their horns. It wasn't a somber, quiet affair. It was a celebration of a man who gave a voice to a people who felt silenced.
Why We Still Listen in 2026
The song hasn't aged. Why? Because it’s honest.
In a world of Auto-Tune and AI-generated melodies, the imperfections in Iz’s voice are what make it perfect. You can hear his tongue hit the roof of his mouth. You can hear the slight squeak of the ukulele strings.
It’s become the "universal" song of peace. Whether it's a charity commercial or a movie scene about a character finding redemption, that opening "Oooooh" tells the audience exactly how to feel.
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How to Appreciate the Song Properly
Don't just listen to the radio edit. Go find the full version from Facing Future.
Listen to the way he introduces the song. He says, "Kay, this one's for Gabby." He was referring to Gabby Pahinui, a legend of Hawaiian slack-key guitar. He was paying homage to his roots before stepping into a global spotlight.
Also, pay attention to the transition between the two songs. He doesn't force it. He just glides from the "chimney tops" of the first song into the "trees of green" of the second. It’s seamless because, in his mind, they were the same dream.
Actionable Takeaways for Music Lovers
If you're moved by Iz’s story and his music, don't stop at the "Rainbow" song. There is a whole world of Hawaiian music that most people never explore.
- Listen to "Hawaiʻi '78": This is arguably his most important song. It’s a haunting reflection on what the Hawaiian kings and queens would think if they saw the modern islands today. It’s heavy, political, and beautiful.
- Learn the Uke (The Right Way): If you're a musician, study his "thumb-lead" style. He didn't always use a pick or a standard strum. He used the meat of his thumb to get that warm, percussive sound.
- Respect the Context: Next time you hear the song, remember it wasn't recorded in a fancy LA studio. It was recorded by a man who struggled to walk but could make a whole room fly with a four-stringed instrument.
- Explore the Mākaha Sons: Before his solo career, Iz was part of a group that defined modern Hawaiian music. Their harmonies are world-class.
The story of Iz and his "Rainbow" isn't just about a hit song. It's about the power of a single moment. It’s a reminder that you don't need a million-dollar production to reach the world. You just need a ukulele, a 3:00 AM session, and a soul that has something to say.
The next time life feels a bit too loud or complicated, put on the track. Ignore the movie scenes it's been in. Just listen to the man breathing. Listen to the uke. The dreams that you dare to dream really do come true, even if they only last for three minutes and forty-eight seconds on a digital recording.
To dive deeper into his legacy, look up the documentary Iz: The Man and His Music. It shows the footage of that final send-off at Mākaha Beach, which is something every music fan should see at least once. It puts the entire song into a perspective that radio play simply can't provide. Read the lyrics to "Hawaiʻi '78" alongside "Over the Rainbow" to see the two sides of the man: the dreamer and the protector.