It’s 2:15 in the morning, and I’m sitting at a local Denny’s with a cup of coffee, listening. I’ll be honest — I don’t recommend the food here (I hardly ever eat it, maybe a sandwich every once in a while). But this place has become my go-to spot for early morning work sessions. With few interruptions, I can plan out my day, reflect a little, and — more often than not — listen to albums for review. My sleep schedule drifts out of sync every six months or so, but I don’t really mind. In fact, I kind of like it. These quiet hours have become a personal ritual, and this morning turned out to be the perfect setting for the album I’m about to share. Except for the food, don’t eat the food!
For my last review, I explored On a Cold Frosty Morning by Kori Linae Carothers — a seasonal compilation that captured the chill and wonder of winter’s embrace. If you missed it, you can read that one here: On a Cold Frosty Morning.
Now for this next one, I’m turning to Hale ‘I‘iwi – Songs from the Rainforest by Joanne Lazzaro — a lush and evocative journey through soundscapes inspired by nature’s most vibrant sanctuaries. The Hawaiian words in the title are pronounced “HAH- lay eeh EEE-vee” (house of the scarlet honeycreeper).
Discovery & First Impressions
I first came across Joanne’s music through one of the many Facebook music groups we were both part of. She had listened to my album For the Willow Wept… and shared some kind words about it. Unfortunately, her message got buried in Messenger, and I didn’t come across it until almost a year later. Once I finally did, I thanked her — and immediately went to explore her music. At the time, her album Under the Stars had just been released, and I remember being genuinely impressed by it.
Listen to Under the Stars
Hard to believe that was already ten years ago. Time has a way of slipping by.
Track-by-Track Reflections
Some of the songs featured below are also part of the official Reviews from the Aural Realms playlists on Spotify:
For this review, though, I’ll be sharing the songs directly from Joanne’s official YouTube channel. That way, you can listen along as you read and experience the music in the same way I did while reflecting on it.
The first thing that stands out about this release — and what sets it apart from others I’ve written about — is the song titles. They’re unusually lengthy, and for good reason: each one reflects the specific place Joanne was in while recording these melodies. This isn’t a conventional album so much as a sonic travelogue — a collection of reflections and interpretations shaped by her surroundings. As the liner notes explain, these ten tracks were chosen from a four-day excursion, selected both for their mood and minimal technical flaws. All environmental sounds remain: bees buzzing across the microphones, farm dogs barking at the unexpected flute, the creak of tree roots beneath a recorder perched on a stump, even a curious black cat trailing close behind. You’ll also hear chickens, pheasants, the distant hum of generators, the faint whine of airplanes over Hilo and Kona — and, in seven of the ten tracks, the ever-present chorus of coqui frogs, an invasive yet now ubiquitous species.
Additionally, the album was mixed in Dolby Atmos surround-sound, so listeners will get a better experience streaming on a platform that has lossless music, and playback equipment (including Apple AirPods) that support surround-sound.
1. A group of hikers approaches the sound of the ‘ohe hano ihu and interrupts the flute player
At just over a minute long, this is the shortest track on the album, and it works perfectly as a prelude for everything that follows. Joanne actually begins the whole journey with the very last thing she recorded. You first hear the rainforest waking around her, then the soft tones of a Hawaiian-style bamboo nose flute in G, crafted by Keith Glowka of Buffalo Moon Flutes. She recorded it on her final morning at the Kipukapuaulu Trail in Hawai’i Volcanoes National Park, right before heading to the airport. According to the liner notes, about a minute into her solo a bird-watching tour wandered by — their voices and footsteps becoming part of the soundscape.
For me, listening with my morning coffee, it immediately sets a peaceful, unhurried tone. It’s calming, even grounding — helping me slow down and breathe before what’s sure to be a busy day. A short piece, yes, but the perfect doorway into the atmosphere of the album.
2. Rain spirit song to the birds and the wind at Hale ‘I’iwi Here
I like the little twist Joanne pulled here: the album begins with the last thing she recorded, and then follows with the very first. It’s almost like she flipped the ends of her journey, which makes me wonder how it might sound if the two were swapped back again — a thought I may test out later when listening on my hi-fi system at home.
This opening “mic test,” as she called it, was captured at Hale ‘I‘iwi, a private parcel of land high in the North Kona highlands bordering the Honua‘ula Forest Reserve. Joanne had forgotten the GPS left her at the wrong spot and found herself staring at a locked gate and wire fence. Undeterred, she left a note on her dashboard, hopped the fence (yes, sneaky move — a true Lara Croft moment), and made her way inside. It turns out the fencing was to keep visitors out of an area riddled with lava tubes, but she emerged unscathed and light-footed. There, with a Native American style poplar flute in B minor made by Rick Svitzer (Rain Spirit Flutes), she began to play.
Listening to it now, I’m reminded of “the conversation” from Close Encounters of the Third Kind. The way the flute phrases weave against the backdrop feels almost like dialogue — as if Joanne is speaking directly with the surrounding wildlife. It’s calm, meditative, and deeply engaging. The track closes as though she’s finishing that conversation, a soft goodbye to the birds and wind. Or perhaps, since it was her very first recording of the trip, it’s more of a hello. Either way, it works beautifully, and this one is going straight onto my calm and meditative playlist.
3. Crooked basket on the porch song at the Kulaniapia Falls cabin
That “conversation” feeling I mentioned earlier is even stronger here. The way Joanne phrases the melody brings that Close Encounters of the Third Kind connection right back to mind, especially with the repeated five-note sequence. It’s like she’s deepening that dialogue with the world around her — and for me, it makes this one stand out as a clear favorite so far. This is absolutely going on my playlist.
She recorded it at Kulaniapia Falls Farm, staying in a small solar-powered cabin. On the porch sat a tall, crooked handwoven basket, leaning as if it might topple over at any second — and that quirky image sparked the inspiration for the piece. Joanne chose her very first Native American flute for the recording, a cherry-wood instrument in A minor crafted by Larry Spieler of Chris Ti Coom flutes. Its voice is distinct, almost as if it insisted on shaping the song itself. And all around it, the coqui frogs kept their steady chorus, some even hopping right up onto the steps while she played.
Listening, I found myself imagining the “other side” of the conversation — as though some distant instrument, maybe even a hyperbass flute, could be answering her call. Playful thought or not, it speaks to just how immersive and evocative this track really is.
4. Another emerald island song with a little help from all the coqui frogs at Faris Farm
“Intruder alert!” And sure enough, here comes Lara Croft — or rather, Joanne — stepping into yet another unexpected setting. You can clearly hear the pig-dogs in the distance, just as she described in the liner notes, sounding their warning the moment she began to play.
This piece was recorded at Faris Farm, where Joanne stayed in an off-grid Hipcamp cabin surrounded by rainforest and tall ‘ōhi‘a trees. Inspired by the image of an “emerald island” in a sea of blue, she picked up a PVC Irish flute in G major — a gift from a friend — and let the music flow. The Irish influence is unmistakable, and it immediately hooked me. There’s also a faint jingling in the background that adds a surprising but welcome texture to the atmosphere.
By the time this track settled in, I realized I just needed to be in the right headspace — and once I was, it all clicked. This one quickly became another favorite of mine, thanks to that Irish character woven into the soundscape of Hawaii.
5. The night my friend Paul disappeared in Cambodia and I called the consulate in Phnom Penh
This is a somber piece, and when you know the story behind it, the weight becomes clear. Joanne recorded it on the porch of her cabin at Faris Forest, surrounded by the layered sounds of jungle life — generators humming, trucks rumbling along gravel roads, pig-dogs barking, and roosters crowing in the distance. Out of that environment came a memory: a phone call she once made to the U.S. Consulate in Phnom Penh after her friend Paul went missing in Cambodia. She remembers the consular agent seeming to sit by an open window, with street and jungle sounds drifting through, and after filing a “Welfare and Whereabouts” request, she never heard anything about Paul again.
With that in mind, it’s no wonder this improvisation became the most contemplative of her entire trip. Played on a vintage Japanese 1.6 shakuhachi in E, its tones feel unresolved, tinged with sadness, yet hauntingly beautiful. Listening, I was reminded of a scene from the 1994 film Nell with Jodie Foster and Liam Neeson — something about the quiet melancholy and raw human emotion. You can hear every bit of that emotion here, and it lingers long after the piece ends.
6. Moonsong for Chi the farmhouse cat who followed me everywhere like a shadow at night
Cats? I like cats. In fact, we have four of them at home, so naturally I loved this one right away. The star here is Chi, the friendly black farmhouse cat at Kulaniapia Falls, who followed Joanne everywhere like a shadow. You can even hear Chi meow a couple of times during the recording — and the timing is so perfect, it almost sounds like the cat is the one starting the song. The way Joanne transitions into playing at just that moment is seamless, thanks in part to her choice of flute in the same key as Chi’s voice. I even found myself backing it up a few times just to enjoy that little interplay again.
This track was recorded late at night on the balcony of the Kulaniapia Falls Inn, overlooking the waterfall. Joanne played a high D minor Native American style flute crafted by Ed Hrebec of Spirit of the Woods Flutes. The farmhouse itself is shared by workers, guests, and three cats, all of whom spend their nights on rodent patrol before napping away the afternoons. Chi, of course, was the most sociable — interrupting recordings by climbing into bags, hopping onto benches, or even scaling Joanne’s leg. But here, that companionship became part of the music.
The mix on this piece is wonderful — the blend of Chi’s presence with Joanne’s flute creates a warm, intimate atmosphere. I can picture Chi curled up beside her as she plays, the night sounds of the farm around them, and it makes this track feel both personal and magical.
7. Turtle sings to the frogs in the river at Kulaniapia Falls
I really like the melody on this one. What strikes me is how Joanne’s improvisations, taken together, weave into a long narrative of her trip — a musical travel diary told in the moment. With this track, though, I didn’t find myself analyzing or comparing. I just wanted to sit, listen, and let it wash over me. There’s something about it that makes everything else fade away.
She recorded this piece along the river trail at Kulaniapia Falls, where smaller waterfalls break the flow and benches invite you to pause. Sitting on one of those benches in the late afternoon, she let the flute rise just as the coqui frogs were beginning their evening chorus. The instrument itself carries its own story — a custom “sea turtle” Native American style flute in A minor, handcrafted by Brent Haines of Woodsounds Flutes. Together, the flute and the frogs create a soundscape that feels both grounded and timeless.
This track is one of those moments where the best thing to do is nothing at all — just listen.
8. Dreaming of Bali under a guava tree at Faris Farm
This one feels more contemplative, but in a different way than the earlier tracks. The scaling Joanne plays here climbs higher than much of what we’ve heard so far, and that change gives the piece a lightness, almost like it’s reaching upward. As I listened, my mind drifted back to The Martian Chronicles — the 1980 mini-series based on Ray Bradbury’s book. I couldn’t tell you exactly why, but there’s something in this track’s atmosphere that reminds me of those quiet, otherworldly moments, the ones where wonder and melancholy blur together. Sci-fi keeps popping into my head as I listen to this album, and maybe that’s because these improvisations feel like transmissions — fleeting messages from another place.
This particular piece was recorded under guava trees at Faris Farm. Joanne noted that she learned to eat the fruit fresh-picked, unpeeled, quartered, and sprinkled with salt — an experience she’d never had before, having only known guava from cartons of juice. For this track, she turned to a bamboo transverse flute built on an Indonesian suling scale in F#/D major. Unlike her genuine suling flutes, which are too fragile to travel, this one is sturdy enough to tuck into a backpack. She describes it as an instrument with an inherently optimistic outlook, one that naturally inspires visions of faraway places. Listening, I believe it. The flute’s tone carries a brightness that feels like dreaming — not just of Bali, but of anywhere your imagination might wander. And in the background, the coqui frogs sing along as if they approve.
This is music that makes me stop, listen, and let my mind drift — to Bradbury’s Mars, to distant Bali, or simply to the space of imagination itself.
9. Last night on the Big Island ‘ohe hano ihu blues
You can really feel the weight of Joanne’s mood in this one. It’s airy, spacious, and tinged with that unmistakable sense of being “blue.” She even slips a few blues riffs into the flow, which gives the piece a character unlike anything else on the album so far. It’s a fascinating blend: the openness of the rainforest at night mixed with the soulfulness of the blues.
Joanne mentioned in her notes that she had recently discovered her Hawaiian-style bamboo nose flute in G had a blues scale option — but it’s the sort of instrument she feels she has to be in the right mood to play that way. On her last night in Hawaii, with the bittersweet feeling of leaving behind the island, she tapped into that mood perfectly. The result is a performance that carries not just technical novelty, but genuine emotion.
Listening, I can almost imagine the flute itself sighing with her. It’s a piece that doesn’t just showcase the versatility of the instrument but captures a moment of transition — standing at the edge of departure, aware that change is coming, even if you don’t yet know what it will be. That’s what makes this track linger: it’s not just improvisation, it’s a snapshot of feeling.
10. Purple flute song for the purple flowers in the rain at Hale ‘I’iwi
And here we are — the final track. In a way, Joanne does close the circle by using one of her earliest recordings as the last song on the album. Maybe that means I won’t need to go back and create that flipped playlist after all. Then again… yeah, I probably still will.
It’s now 4:23 in the morning. I’ve traveled slowly with this music, jotting notes, and retracing the path through the album. This closing piece feels brighter than the one before it — a little more joyful, even playful, leaving us on a positive note after the somber blues of the previous track. There’s also a more staccato quality to the phrasing here, something that stands out compared to the flowing lines of the earlier songs.
Joanne recorded this during her very first session of the trip, when the weather looked like rain. She reached for her waterproof Native American style purple cast epoxy flute in B♭ minor, a gift from Peter Churcher of Willow Creek Woodcraft. It’s an instrument that thrives in wet weather, and the key itself seems to be one birds everywhere respond to. The setting added its own voice too — bees buzzed close to the mic as it rested on a log in the middle of a carpet of purple groundcover flowers.
The result is a piece that feels both grounded and light. A fitting end — one that lifts you gently out of the journey and back into the day.
Final Thoughts
As I close out this review, I have to say — it’s been an honor to spend time with this album and give it the kind of deep listen it deserves. I knew I loved Joanne’s music and style going in, but I honestly didn’t expect to come away with as many thoughts, feelings, and connections as I did. What started as a quiet early morning at Denny’s with a cup of coffee turned into a journey through rainforests, farms, waterfalls, and even memories of films and sci-fi stories that have shaped my imagination.
I also appreciate the way Joanne structured the album — beginning with her last recording and ending with one of her first. It gives the whole experience a sense of circular travel, where endings and beginnings blur together. That idea of flipping the playlist still intrigues me, but I think the way she presented it works beautifully.
More than anything, this album felt like being invited along for the trip itself. The frogs, the birds, the dogs, the bees, even Chi the cat — they weren’t background noise, they were part of the music. It’s rare to hear an album that so openly embraces its environment, and rarer still to feel so connected to it as a listener.
I hope Joanne continues to explore this path in future projects. I’d love to hear more albums like this — maybe even a return visit to spend more time with Chi (with a bag of treats, of course, so the other cats don’t get jealous).
Hale ‘I‘iwi – Songs from the Rainforest is a unique, immersive, and heartfelt album, and I’m grateful I had the chance to sit with it in the quiet hours and let it unfold.
Listen / Purchase
- 🔊 Listen on Spotify
- 🍎 Listen on Apple Music (for lossless, Dolby-Atmos listening)
- 💿 Purchase CD from Bandcamp
And of course I highly recommend listening to Under the Stars, my first introduction to Joanne’s music. See YouTube playlist below!
About the Artist
Joanne Lazzaro is a classically trained flutist whose career spans orchestral performance, world flutes, recording, and studio work in Los Angeles. She’s performed everywhere from farmers markets to Carnegie Hall, and as Principal Flute of the Beach Cities Symphony and a member of the Los Angeles Flute Orchestra, she’s shared the stage with artists as diverse as James Galway, CeCe Winans, and Serj Tankian.
Her love of world flutes has made her a sought-after collaborator for film and independent projects — sometimes requiring a trunk full of instruments, as in her 2021 work on Eden Ahbez’s Dharmaland. She also founded the Los Angeles World Flute Circle, is active with the GRAMMYs™, and is a frequent clinician for national flute organizations.
As an independent artist, Joanne first gained recognition with her award-winning Native American flute album Under the Stars (2015). Since then, she’s launched her own label, JoRazzal Music, released critically acclaimed projects, and even embraced hi-resolution surround formats like Dolby Atmos with singles such as No More Words and Ashes to Ireland (the latter earning a 2024 Hollywood Independent Music Award nomination).
Outside of music, Joanne has a fascinating personal story — from discovering a small but real Native American connection in her family tree, to long-distance cycling, Krav Maga training, and riding her Honda Rebel 1100 through Southern California. Much like her music, her life is a blend of discipline, adventure, and curiosity.
For more information, please visit Joanne’s official site here: JOANNE LAZZARO
Artist Interview
Every album has its own story — from the places that spark inspiration, to the improvisations that take on a life of their own, to the unexpected moments that shape the final work. To give us a glimpse into that journey, I asked Joanne a few questions about Hale ‘I‘iwi – Songs from the Rainforest and what comes next in her musical path.
Q1. Much of this album was improvised in the moment. How did you balance letting the environment guide you while still shaping each piece into something you felt belonged on the record?
Q2. Nature plays such a big role here — frogs, birds, bees, even Chi the cat. Was there a moment where the environment surprised you in a way that completely changed how a track unfolded?
Q3. You’ve recorded in classical, world, and studio settings. How did this project feel different compared to your past albums, and what did you take away from the experience?
Q4. Do you see yourself doing another field-recorded album like this in the future — perhaps even revisiting Hale ‘I‘iwi or Kulaniapia Falls (with Chi waiting for you, of course)?
✨ Want Your Music Reviewed? ✨
Reviews from the Aural Realms is all about spotlighting music that deserves to be heard. If you’re an artist who’d like to see your music featured in a future review, I also offer detailed review services on Fiverr — including promo clips for social media.
One thought on “Hale ‘I’iwi – Songs from the Rainforest by Joanne Lazzaro”