The Hawaiian steel guitar changed American music. Can one man keep that tradition alive?

After teaching himself how to play, he began teaching others — for $2 a lesson — while studying education at the University of Hawaii. He received his master's degree in 1994 and opened his own school for Hawaiian music in 2009.

At first, most of his Hawaiian steel guitar students were adults, Akaka said. But he started taking on younger learners after he realized the musicians of his era were starting to fade.

"Some of my generation, they were playing in the clubs and that was all good," he said. "But there were no young ones below us taking up the instrument."

In the 1970s, the Hawaiian steel guitar was so popular in the U.S. that attendees of an annual festival in Indiana would fly in from as far as England and China and camp outside a motel when it ran out of rooms, said Mark Prucha, president of the Aloha International Steel Guitar Club.

At last year's convention, there were fewer than 100 people.

"You have to put in a lot of effort in order to be able to sound good on it, to sound proficient," the 30-year-old software engineer said. "But because of that it's a more expressive instrument than any other. Do you slide into it, do you play staccato? It's really what you do in between the notes too."

By teaching younger students and encouraging them to perform, Akaka says he is "planting seeds."

During Cortez's lesson, his third, the teenager works through the song "Beyond the Reef" amid a cluster of guitars in Akaka's home office. Cortez's parents came up with the idea of steel guitar lessons, thinking they might improve his performance in his Hawaiian music ensemble, where he plays the ukulele.

Like Akaka, Cortez started playing ukulele at 8 and inherited a love of Hawaiian music from his family. But he is often busy with schoolwork and football practice, and the steel guitar is unlike any other instrument he's encountered. So he struggles.

By the end of the hour, Akaka has pivoted to a new tack for his student. He pulls out a black-and-gold steel guitar, a six-string Supro donated by another musician to replace the basic model Cortez uses at home. Akaka has a feeling that it belongs with Cortez — with one condition.

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