I used to be a regular attendee of the yearly Na Hoku Hanohano Awards applauding Hawai'i's music makers.

It was part of my job, covering the gala for about two decades, interviewing the winners (and some losers).

I've tracked, reviewed and adored much of the music honored.

Disclosure: I actually won two Hoku trophies in 1981 and '82, for penning the liner notes for a "Homegrown" album and a Karen Keawehawai'i release; this was the Stone Age, when the disc-like awards were made of wood; the albums were 33 1/3 rpm vinyl.

Also, I was one of the founding board members of the sponsoring Hawai'i Academy of Recording Arts, which again will present the awards evening Tuesday at the Sheraton Waikiki Hotel.

But I will be there only in spirit.

The event, like the music industry, has radically changed over time. There are unspoken factions: the yesterday crowd vs. the today.

Few in the music biz make much money; CD sales are down, as means and methods of getting the music out there have radically morphed into the virtual technology.

I mean, is an album really an album if it's largely an online item?

What the industry needs is another "Kawaipunahele" or "Facing Future," the biggest of the biggie sellers from the recent past.

But what are the Hoku Awards if not for the memories?

Reflecting on the best of times from yesteryear, hurrahs of a different nature:

Best celeb to ogle: Melveen Leed. Da Tita was always the one to watch, in a Villa Roma gown, with sparkles to illuminate any dark night. I will never forget the night she paraded in, wearing a metallic silver gown, looking like she was oven-ready in aluminum foil. She was the best of fashion and an infrequent worst, but always the one to eyeball.

Best arrival: Gotta be Frank DeLima, in the early stages when arrivals were more fun than the actual ceremonies. I think the time he brought the Damien High School band to serenade tops his merry parade. Nowaways, folks arrive in hired limos or self-drive to the parking lot, with no panache or imagination.

Best brotherly blight: The year both Keola Beamer and Kapono Beamer — by then deep in their split decision — sat on opposite sides of the ballroom, a gap that was clearly a Honolulu City Blight.

Best walking floral garden: Karen Keawehawai'i, who always popped in with a head full of fresh blooms, resembling a living floral display. Now she wears fake — she creates her own faux blooms.

Best place for a Hoku show: Blaisdell Concert Hall and its look-straight-at-the-stage environment. Big stage, curtain, spotlights, better sound. Surely, the preferred 10-to-a-table format in a ballroom space provides camaraderie for meals and partying and bonding, but methinks a "show" works best on a formal proscenium stage. Think local-style Oscars and Grammys, not Emmys (a tabled affair).

Best chicken-skin moment: When Louis "Moon" Kauakahi, Jerome Koko and John Koko — the Makaha Sons — spontaneously traipsed from the audience (like a reflex, to save a drowning bro) onto the Sheraton Waikiki stage, to join a struggling and by then ailing Israel Kamakawiwo'ole to join and finish "Kaleohano" in a moment captured by live television on K5 The Home Team. There were tears, cheers and hugs aplenty — the first and only time Braddah Iz and Moon, Jerome and John reunited, since Iz died the following year.