You probably know the voice before you know the name. It’s that airy, delicate falsetto drifting over a gentle ukulele. It sounds like a warm breeze. Honestly, it’s one of those songs that stops people in their tracks in grocery stores or during movie credits. But for Israel Kamakawiwoole, that one famous medley of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" was just a tiny fragment of a much bigger, much heavier story.
He was a giant. Physically, yeah, but culturally? Even bigger.
People in Hawaii didn’t just call him a singer; they called him the "Voice of Hawaii." He wasn't some polished pop star manufactured in a studio. He was Bruddah Iz. He was a man who carried the weight of a nation’s history and its future on his shoulders, often while struggling to breathe.
The 3 AM Session That Changed Everything
Most legendary songs have these long, drawn-out origin stories involving months of mixing. Not this one. In 1988, Iz called up a recording studio in Honolulu at three in the morning. He had an idea. He didn't want to wait.
Milan Bertosa, the guy running the studio, was about to lock up. He was tired. But he let Iz in anyway. Imagine the scene: this massive man, weighing around 500 pounds at the time, walks in with a tiny ukulele. The security guard had to find a heavy-duty steel chair just so he could sit down.
Then, Iz started playing.
He did the whole medley—"Somewhere Over the Rainbow" mixed with "What a Wonderful World"—in one single take. Just one. No retakes, no fancy editing. It was raw. When he finished, Bertosa knew he had just captured something impossible to replicate. That recording eventually landed on the 1993 album Facing Future, which became the first Hawaiian album to ever go platinum.
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Why Israel Kamakawiwoole Was More Than a Cover Artist
If you only listen to the radio hits, you’re missing the point of who he really was. Iz was a fierce advocate for Hawaiian sovereignty. He wasn't quiet about it either.
Born in 1959, the same year Hawaii became the 50th state, Iz grew up seeing his culture get packaged and sold to tourists. He felt like a second-class citizen in his own home. You can hear the pain and the pride in songs like "Hawai’i ’78."
In that track, he asks a haunting question: What would the ancient Hawaiian kings and queens think if they saw the freeways and the high-rises today? It’s not a "feel-good" beach song. It’s a protest. It’s a mourning for a lost way of life.
The Makaha Sons Era
Before he went solo, Iz was part of the Makaha Sons of Ni’ihau. He started the group with his brother, Skippy. They were huge in the islands. They played traditional music that made people feel proud to be Hawaiian again.
But tragedy hit early. Skippy died of a heart attack in 1982. He was only 28. It was a dark foreshadowing of what was coming for Iz, who also struggled with morbid obesity his entire life.
A Struggle for Air and Life
By the mid-90s, the fame was global, but his body was failing. At his heaviest, Iz weighed over 750 pounds. It’s hard to wrap your head around that.
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He had to use an oxygen tank just to get through a performance. Sometimes he needed a forklift just to get on stage. It sounds undignified, but the way he handled it was pure grace. He’d sit there, tethered to a machine, and sing notes that sounded like they were coming straight from heaven.
His 1996 album N Dis Life was a goodbye of sorts. He knew his time was short. He’d become a born-again Christian and spoke a lot about peace and what comes next. He wasn’t afraid of death; he was just tired.
The Day Hawaii Stood Still
When Israel Kamakawiwoole died on June 26, 1997, the entire state went into mourning. He was only 38 years old.
The state government did something they almost never do for a private citizen: they allowed his body to lie in state at the Capitol Building in Honolulu. He was only the third person in history to get that honor. The others were a Governor and a Senator.
The video for "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" actually shows footage of his funeral. You see thousands of people lining the shores. You see his ashes being scattered into the ocean at Mākua Beach. People were splashing water, cheering, and crying all at once. It wasn't just a funeral; it was a celebration of a man who gave a voice to a people who felt ignored.
What Most People Get Wrong About His Music
A lot of people think Iz was just a "happy ukulele guy." That's a massive oversimplification.
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His music was complex. He blended:
- Traditional Hawaiian chanting
- Modern reggae (which locals call "Jawaiian")
- Jazz and country influences
- Political activism
He proved that you could be deeply traditional and modern at the same time. He showed that a ukulele wasn't a toy—it was a tool for storytelling.
Today, his version of "Over the Rainbow" has billions of streams. It’s been in movies like 50 First Dates and Meet Joe Black. But for the people of Hawaii, he isn't a movie soundtrack. He’s the guy who reminded them that their land, their language, and their lives actually mattered.
Essential Listening Beyond the Hits
If you really want to understand the man, you have to dig deeper than the famous medley. Check out these tracks:
- "E Ala E": A powerful call for Hawaiians to wake up and unite.
- "White Sandy Beach of Hawai’i": Pure, stripped-back beauty that shows off his vocal control.
- "Maui Hawaiian Sup'pa Man": This one shows his fun, playful side and his love for Hawaiian mythology.
- "Ke Alo O Iesu": A beautiful Hawaiian-language hymn that reflects his faith.
Israel Kamakawiwoole didn't just sing songs; he carried a culture. Even decades after he left, you can still feel his mana—his spirit—whenever that tiny ukulele starts to strum.
Next Steps for Your Playlist:
To truly appreciate the depth of Hawaiian music, start by listening to the full Facing Future album from start to finish. Don't skip the spoken interludes; they provide the context of his life and the struggles of the islands. After that, look up the lyrics to "Hawai’i ’78" to understand the political weight behind his legendary voice.