So much has been written about Henry Kaiser, there's no need to reiterate his importance in the history of modern guitar. The countless influences — repeatedly cited by Kaiser himself — shaping his style are fused with a unique craftsmanship in the realm of sound processing. However, unlike many axemen who wield effects like toy weapons but do not produce anything musically dignified, the mercilessly pitch-bending Oaklander has fine-tuned a creative mechanism that unfailingly conveys to attentive audiences a sparkling transcendence which is found nowhere else.

All of the above may be summed up in the twenty-three minutes of "Antarctic Requiem For Liz Sutter And Bija Sass", the program's longest piece. It is no coincidence that the whole album is indeed a compilation of profound salutes to departed individuals whose spirit reverberates in the instrumentals; in that regard, one of the tracks is aptly titled "Some Of The Great Ancestors Inside My Guitar," a statement in and of itself. Kaiser strums, arpeggiates, frets, and twists shapes throughout most of Mahalo Nui's ten chapters, searching endlessly for an enlightened place where the resonance of diverse acoustic and electric machines can reveal its energizing brilliance.

The processors add a delightful touch of electronic sonority in segments such as "Girl Divers At Spook Mansion Requiem For Yoko Mihara," whereas "Guitar Trio Requiem For David Lindley" is the lone episode involving other musicians, Jimmy Agren and Scott Colby. As always in Kaiser's output, the possibilities are practically infinite, and the improvisational nuances so polymorphous as to convey an occasional sense of extracorporeal journeying. But at the same time, the sonic substance — including the chunkier overdriven tones — implies rather tangible structures: sometimes inherently convoluted, elsewhere as simple as putting your fingers on the white clouds in a blue sky.