George S. Kanahele’s monumental 1979 work "Hawaiian Music & Musicians, An Illustrated History" is recognized as the most comprehensive — indeed, almost the only — guide to music and musicians in Hawaii.

But just when he had begun to plan the book’s revision, the respected educator, civic leader, tourism consultant and writer died at age 70.

A week from today, however, Kanahele’s vision will be realized with the release of "Ka Mele Hawai‘i a Me ka Po‘e Mele/Hawaiian Music & Musicians, An Encyclopedic History" (Mutual Publishing, $35), with Star-Advertiser entertainment writer John Berger’s name just beneath Kanahele’s.

As well, there are eight pages of acknowledgments from musicians and their family members, recording industry executives, historians, kumu hula, chanters, composers, Hawaiian language experts and international scholars, all of whom (including Berger) worked without remuneration.

Berger, 61, is not given to hyperbole, but his voice holds emotion as he says, "It’s a very humbling experience. More than 200 people helped. If it wasn’t for them, I’d still have a promise to keep."

Oddly, it was the rather cheesy and short-lived TV series "Baywatch Hawaii" that started it.

Because the producers wanted Hawaiian culture to be correctly represented in the series, one of the show’s creators, Greg Bonann, consulted with Kanahele. Before the show launched in 1999, Kanahele led a "Baywatch" creative group on a behind-the-scenes tour of Bishop Museum. Berger covered it.

Kanahele and Berger began talking about the state of Hawaiian music, meeting several times. In May 2000, Kanahele invited the writer to be his partner in a thorough updating of the already encyclopedic work. The book would incorporate the influences of the contemporary Hawaiian music movement (Sunday Manoa, the Brothers Cazimero and musicians of similar status); the Hawaiian Renaissance and sovereignty movements, with a list of songs from "All Hawaii Stand Together" to "Where Have All the Hawaiians Gone"; and the rise of "Jawaiian/Island music" and other developments.

Kanahele asked only one thing. "Promise me," Berger said he was told, "that you will see this to the end, no matter what."

Kanahele died in September of that year. Now Berger has made good on his word with a 1,000-page paperback with dozens of new or expanded listings.

Even while continuing to work full time at the Star-Advertiser, Berger was writing and rewriting, editing, soliciting interviews, phoning and emailing potential sources, finding translators for essays written in other languages, searching libraries and archives.

At times, he said, "it was like a detective story, looking for information and being careful not to jump too quickly to conclusions."

Throughout, Berger closely followed his mentor’s guidelines. The first of these: "He was inclusive," Berger said.

Kanahele wanted the book to be about anything or anyone significant in the development or spread of Hawaiian music anywhere. (One of the book’s most interesting pieces is an essay, all but unchanged from the first edition, "What Is Hawaiian Music," by musicologist Elizabeth Tatar, which does and doesn’t answer the thorny question.)

There are chapters on Hawaiian music as interpreted in locations as distant as Sri Lanka and Sweden.

"Hawaiian musicians went out, then Hawaiian recordings went out, then ‘Hawaii Calls’ (the radio show) went out," Berger said. "In some cases, (people elsewhere) adopted and adapted what they heard or knew in a way that we would not recognize as Hawaiian." But Kanahele found international scholars to document the Hawaii experience around the world.

Berger knows that he’s going to take some heat about who’s in the book and who isn’t; why a Caucasian is the co-editor; how can certain genres be "Hawaiian" if it isn’t pre-contact chant or songs.

As to who’s in and who isn’t, Berger says he soon realized, "it wasn’t about me, what I like or don’t like. Everybody in the book should be there for a purpose; they should be there for something they brought to Hawaiian music."

And so, though Berger has been cool to much Jawaiian music — a Hawaii style of reggae — there is a thoughtful, fact-filled and insightful 18-page essay on the subject.

The "ins" and "outs" — comparing and contrasting the old book with the new — make some of the best reading.

Don Ho wasn’t in the first book; Berger doesn’t know why. Israel Kamakawiwo‘ole had no individual citations in the first book, though his group, the Makaha Sons of Ni‘ihau, received two mentions. In the Kanahele-Berger collaboration, "Iz" is discussed in 18 different places, including a four-page biography.

On the other hand, Berger points out, there are figures such as the baritone Keaumoku Lewis, a singer, musician and recording artist who was a principal singer with symphonies around the country and sold out whenever he performed at home. Today he is forgotten.

Berger feels no need to justify his place in the project; by Kanahele’s criteria he deserves his place.

As for the contention that music stopped being truly Hawaiian when Capt. James Cook’s sails appeared over the horizon, he’s in good company with numerous Hawaiian performers and composers who have noted that pre-contact Hawaiians wrote about everyday things, just as contemporary composers do, and chanting would have evolved even if Western explorers had never stumbled upon the islands.

In fact, some argue that change is characteristic of Hawaiian music, where individuality of style is prized (especially in slack-key guitar) and few musicians or performers do any song the same way twice.

"Iz" was famous for having to be recorded in one continuous take; producer Jon de Mello couldn’t interrupt to say, "Pick it up here"; the sound would be different, disconnected.

So, 1,000 pages later, is Berger done? Not yet. He’d be writing and researching still if Mutual Publishing hadn’t signed on with a deadline. "There were events I hoped to write about, people I still don’t know enough about," he said.

He’s already stockpiling bits for the next go-round. Perhaps he, too, should be extracting a promise from someone else to see a third edition to the end, "no matter what."