Album Review: Mario Molino 4 Hawaiana by Mario Molino
Mario Molino’s 4 Hawaiana is one of those records that sneaks up on you, like a warm breeze you didn’t know you needed. Released in 1974 under the Italian label CAM, this album dives deep into the Pacific sound, blending Folk, World, and Country vibes with an unmistakable Italian twist. Written entirely by Molino himself, it’s a love letter to Hawaii—or at least his interpretation of it—that feels both nostalgic and refreshingly unique.
The tracklist reads like a tropical itinerary: “Luau Kalikimaka,” “Honolulu,” “Waikiki,” and more evoke images of palm trees swaying in slow motion. But let’s zoom in on two standout tracks that’ll stick with you long after the needle lifts.
First up, “Hula Hula.” It’s impossible not to tap your feet to this one. The rhythm has this hypnotic pull, almost like a gentle tide pulling you closer to the shore. There’s a playful energy here—like Molino wasn’t trying too hard but still nailed it. The percussion pops just right, and there’s this unexpected moment midway where the melody shifts slightly, catching you off guard in the best way possible. You can practically picture someone twirling in a grass skirt, even if they’ve never set foot near an actual hula dance.
Then there’s “Pele,” named after the Hawaiian goddess of volcanoes. This track hits different—it’s darker, moodier, almost cinematic. The strings swell dramatically, and you get these bursts of brass that feel like molten lava flowing through the composition. It’s bold without being overbearing, and honestly? It sounds like something Tarantino might throw into one of his films decades later. If anything, it reminds you that Molino wasn’t just making background music; he was painting vivid scenes with sound.
What makes 4 Hawaiana so special isn’t just its genre-blending charm or Molino’s knack for crafting memorable melodies. It’s how unapologetically Italian it feels while celebrating Hawaiian culture. Sure, some purists might raise an eyebrow at the authenticity (or lack thereof), but who cares? Sometimes art doesn’t have to be perfectly accurate—it just has to transport you somewhere new.
And here’s the kicker: listening to this record feels like finding an old postcard tucked inside a library book. It’s faded around the edges, maybe a little worn, but full of stories waiting to be rediscovered. In today’s world of auto-tuned pop and algorithm-driven playlists, 4 Hawaiana is a reminder that music can still feel handmade—and a little rough around the edges is often exactly what we need.
So grab a piña colada, press play, and let Mario Molino take you on a trip. Just don’t blame us if you start booking flights to Honolulu afterward.
