“Aloha, Maine! It’s so good to be here on the island of Bangor!”

The Hawaiian word “Aloha” is a warmly inclusive word with multilayered meanings of love, mercy, compassion, blessings, greetings and farewell. And the Saturday afternoon performance of Hawaiian slack-key guitarists Cyril Pahinui and Patrick Landeza was just that. Performing before a laid-back, mellow crowd at the picturesque Two Rivers Stage, Landeza and Pahinui were charming, funny and entertaining. And their music was like a warm sweet breeze from somewhere exotic yet emotionally familiar.

In opening remarks, Winnie Lambrecht, director of folk and traditional arts with the Rhode Island Art Council, gave some background information on the history of slack-key guitar. Sometime in the 1830s, the guitar was brought to the islands by Mexican and Spanish vaqueros (cowboys) hired by King Kamehameha III to handle the growing Hawaiian cattle herds. The native Hawaiians borrowed the guitar but changed the tuning and adapted it to include elements from the songs and chants long performed as part of island heritage.

In Hawaii, the art of slack-key guitar is called “Ki ho’alu,” which literally means “slacking the keys.” Technically, Ki ho’alu is just a matter of loosening a guitar’s tuning pegs until a full chord can be played without having to touch the guitar frets with the left hand. For instance, in open C tuning, a C chord is played by strumming all six strings with the right hand. It sounds simple, but like so many other apparently simple things it is what one does with it that counts. Each Ki ho’alu guitarist has an individual style.

Landeza, a young guitarist from what he likes to call “the island of Berkeley California,” began the set alone, playing with an unaffected directness which set off his sweet voice well. In concert he was lively and charismatic and sometimes a bit of a clown, but what came through most delightfully was his genuine love and respect for his music.

Pahinui followed, his deep, smooth vocals well-matched by the exceptionally resonant tone of his guitar. Using hammered notes and cascades of harmonics, Pahinui’s style was liquid, lush and romantic. Finally the pair played together, weaving a complicated texture of rhythm and counter-rhythm, all the while maintaining that ringing sweetness of tone that is a hallmark of the style.

Pahinui, born on the windward side of Oahu, Hawaii, described growing up in a household filled with music. He says he owes much of his musical direction to his legendary father, Gabby Pahinui, who has often been described as “the father of modern slack-key guitar.”

“My father was a versatile musician. He loved jazz, popular music, he could play anything,” recalled Pahinui, who began playing at the age of 7 or 8. His first record, with the band Sunday Manoa, was released in 1968 when he was only 18. Pahinui went on to record a number of albums, most notably on the Dancing Cat label.

As Pahinui benefited by the tutelage of his father and other guitar greats such as Sonny Chillingworth and Leonard Kwan, a whole new generation of young Ki ho’alu performers is coming to the forefront, spearheaded by Landeza, who not only performs but also produces slack-key concerts and recordings. The son of two native Hawaiians who met and married in California, Landeza was unmoved by the rock ‘n’ roll music of his youth. “It was always slack-key,” he says. “Either that or Nat King Cole!”

Landeza stressed what an honor it was to tour with such a legend of Ki ho’alu: ” It’s a real thrill to tour with Cyril. I call him ‘my uncle’ as a mark of respect, but he really is a father figure to me.”

Both Pahinui and Landeza were delighted with Maine, the audience and the festival.

“This is beautiful,” Pahinui said, gesturing toward the lovely setting at the junction of the Kenduskeag Stream and the Penobscot River, yellow butterflies flitting among wildflowers behind the stage. “And the weather is warm, just like home. But I am just glad it’s not snowing!”

Landeza had never been to Maine before, but had nothing but the highest praise for the American Folk Festival. “I have never been to a festival this organized! The number of acts, the number of stages … this could be a producer’s nightmare, but they are running it so smoothly!”

Then Landeza paused, looking around for a moment at the throngs of music fans crowding the Bangor waterfront. “But I think the most important thing is the sense of community here,” he said. “Coming to Bangor and seeing the crowds and the coverage and the welcome signs everywhere makes you realize this is a community that wants this festival, loves it and supports it. We could use more of that kind of spirit everywhere.”