Celebrating Tradition: How Mele Chants Connect Us

On October 10, 2026, the Hawaiian Mission Houses Historic Site and Archives will host Mele Tūtū: Songs of our Grandparents on the Kahua Hoʻokipa stage in Honolulu. The concert revives hapa haole standards from the 1930s and 1940s — songs that once traveled across the Pacific via radio waves and live orchestra broadcasts, and that now serve as a direct sonic link to the generation of grandparents and great-grandparents who shaped modern Hawaiʻi. The event raises a question that reaches far beyond one evening: how does mele — Hawaiian chant and song — actually do the work of connecting people across time, distance, and cultural change?

This article traces that question through the origins of mele, its evolution during the radio era, its role in ceremonies like the Merrie Monarch Festival, and the living practice of kanikapila today. It is written for travelers and cultural learners who want to understand mele as a living tradition — not a museum piece — and who want to engage with it thoughtfully.

Quick-reference: Major forms of mele

The table below outlines the main categories of mele you are most likely to encounter at a concert, festival, or cultural event in Hawaiʻi. Each form has distinct performance contexts and historical roots.

These categories blur at the edges — some mele inoa are performed as oli, and some hapa haole songs have been re-adapted for hula ʻauana. The boundaries are debated among practitioners, which is part of the tradition’s vitality.

What is mele — more than song

In Hawaiian, the word mele translates to “song” or “chant,” but its cultural weight is far heavier. Before the arrival of written Hawaiian in the 1820s — when missionaries and Native Hawaiians began printing at the Ka Hale Pai (Printing House) on the Mission Houses grounds — mele was the primary vehicle for preserving genealogy, history, and spiritual belief. A well-composed mele encoded the winds, rains, waves, and landmarks of a specific place, along with the chiefly lineage connected to that land. To recite a mele was to recite a claim to place and identity.

The distinction between oli and mele is important. Oli is chant without musical instruments or dance, used for protocol, prayer, and formal address. Mele can include dance (mele hula) or musical accompaniment. Both require precise pronunciation and breath control, and both are governed by kapu (restrictions) around when and where they can be performed. Some oli, for instance, are considered too sacred to perform outside of specific ceremonial contexts.

This is where the misconception that mele is simply “Hawaiian music” falls short. Mele is not a genre — it is a practice of encoding and transmitting knowledge. The closest analogy in English might be epic poetry, but even that misses the spiritual dimension: mele carries mana (spiritual power) and must be handled with care.

The radio era and a generational songbook

The music at the heart of Mele Tūtū traces to a specific moment in Hawaiian cultural history: the radio age. On July 3, 1935, Hawaiʻi Calls made its first broadcast from the courtyard of the Moana Hotel on Waikīkī Beach, with the sound of waves audible behind the orchestra. The show eventually reached more than 750 radio stations across the United States and ran for 40 years, ending in 1975 when government subsidies were discontinued. For many kamaʻāina (longtime residents), the songs broadcast during this era — hapa haole tunes blending Hawaiian lyrics and steel guitar with Western big-band arrangements — became the soundtrack of their grandparents’ generation.

That legacy was carried forward by Territorial Airwaves, a weekly radio show launched in 1979 by third-generation broadcaster Harry B. Soria Jr. The show specialized in rare 78-rpm and vinyl recordings from 1915 to 1959, building an archive of more than 10,000 recordings now housed at the Hawaii State Archives. For many families, hearing those recordings today is a direct auditory link to ancestors who gathered around radios in the 1940s.

The Mele Tūtū concert on October 10, 2026, is part of a series that has included earlier installments such as Wahi Kapu – Forbidden Places (May 2025), which explored sacred and restricted sites through moʻolelo, mele, oli, and hula. Tickets cost $50; seating opens at 5:30 p.m. and performances begin at 6:30 p.m. at 553 S. King Street, Honolulu.

Mele in ceremony — Merrie Monarch and kahiko

The Merrie Monarch Festival, held each April in Hilo, is the premier venue for mele hula in the kahiko (ancient) style. On Kahiko Night of the 63rd festival in 2026, 29 hālau (hula schools) performed. Among them was Hālau Nā Lei Kaumaka O Uka under Kumu Hula Nāpua Silva of Waiohuli, Maui, who presented “Pauahi ʻO Kalani” — a mele inoa written by Queen Liliʻuokalani honoring Princess Bernice Pauahi Pākī Bishop, founder of Kamehameha Schools. The dancers wore deep blue pāʻū, red rose lei, and kūpeʻe adornments, accompanied by pūniu (small knee drums made of coconut shell).

Later that evening, Hālau Kekuaokalāʻauʻalaʻiliahi under Nā Kumu Hula Haunani and ʻIliahi Paredes of Wailuku, Maui, performed “Mauliola,” a mele inoa honoring Princess Ruth Keanolani Kanāhoahoa Keʻelikōlani — the highest-ranking aliʻi of her era and a steadfast defender of Hawaiian traditions. The men of the hālau performed “Pahua,” a playful hula maʻi about a pet parrot belonging to King Kamehameha V and his sister Kamāmalu, composed by Kauaʻi hula master Kaʻehu.

The festival also saw Faith Kealohapauʻole Paredes — haumana (student) and daughter of Nā Kumu Haunani and ʻIliahi Paredes — named Miss Aloha Hula 2026, also receiving the Hawaiian Language Award. Her win reflects the deep intergenerational transmission within hālau families, where mele knowledge passes from kumu to haumana across decades.

Instruments that carry the voice

Mele is vocal at its core, but the instruments that accompany it each carry their own history of innovation and cultural exchange. The ʻukulele — a small four-stringed instrument — was introduced by Portuguese immigrants in the 19th century and became a Hawaiian icon. The slack-key guitar (kī hōʻalu) developed when Hawaiian cowboys loosened guitar strings to create open tunings, producing a resonant, finger-style sound that Gabby Pahinui later popularized worldwide. The steel guitar was invented in Hawaiʻi and uses a sliding bar to create wave-like glissandos — a sound that traveled into American country music and surf rock.

For traditional hula, percussive instruments provide the heartbeat. The pahu (sharkskin-covered drum) and ipu (gourd drum) connect the dancer’s movements to the rhythm of the chant. The pūniu (coconut-shell knee drum) and ʻulīʻulī (feathered gourd rattle) add texture. Each instrument is made from natural materials and is often blessed before use.

Modern mele — continuity and change

The Hawaiian Renaissance of the 1970s — led by artists like Gabby Pahinui, Eddie Kamae, and The Sons of Hawaiʻi — revitalized traditional mele and brought it to new audiences. That momentum continues today through artists like Kalani Peʻa, who blends Hawaiian lyrics with R&B and has won multiple Grammys, and Kimié Miner, whose acoustic style weaves Hawaiian, reggae, and pop. Amy Hānaialiʻi Gilliom remains one of Hawaiʻi’s most celebrated vocalists, known for her soaring delivery of both traditional mele and contemporary compositions.

But mele is not only performed on stage. Kanikapila — spontaneous music gatherings with ʻohana (family) and friends — is where mele lives in everyday life. One Instagram user, @kaleo_kanikapila, described learning slack-key guitar by watching an uncle during backyard jams: “No lessons — just heart, memory, and love.” That transmission method — observation, repetition, and emotional connection — is how mele has been passed down for generations.

Mele also functions as activism. Many contemporary songs speak out against land loss, language suppression, and identity erasure. The line between cultural preservation and political resistance in mele is not new — 19th-century mele inoa often carried implicit claims about land rights and chiefly legitimacy. Today, artists like Josh Tatofi (sometimes called the “Hawaiian Luther Vandross”) and Anuhea carry that tradition forward, embedding contemporary social concerns in their lyrics.

Context and comparison — kahiko vs. ʻauana

The distinction between kahiko (ancient) and ʻauana (modern) hula styles is one of the most frequently cited frameworks for understanding mele performance, but it is also one of the most oversimplified. Kahiko is often described as “strict” or “traditional” and ʻauana as “loose” or “contemporary,” but in practice the boundaries are porous — many modern hula draw on kahiko movements, and some kahiko chants have been set to ʻauana-style music.

One still-debated question among practitioners is whether the ʻauana style represents a natural evolution of hula or a response to Western tourism and entertainment demands. The answer likely lies somewhere in between — ʻauana undoubtedly grew out of the hapa haole radio era and resort show circuit, but it has since been reclaimed and reshaped by Native Hawaiian artists as a legitimate form of cultural expression.

Questions readers ask about mele

What is the difference between oli and mele?

Oli is a chant performed without instruments or dance, used for protocol and formal address. Mele can include dance (mele hula) or instrumental accompaniment. Oli is generally more restricted in when and where it can be performed, while mele appears in a wider range of contexts.

Can visitors participate in mele or learn a chant?

Yes, but with guidance. Many cultural centers and hālau offer introductory workshops where you can learn a simple mele or oli under a kumu. Never perform a mele you have learned without knowing its history and proper context — some chants are sacred and should not be performed casually. The Cultural Tours in Hawaiʻi page lists options that include educational components.

Is mele always in the Hawaiian language?

Not always. Hapa haole songs mix Hawaiian and English lyrics, and some contemporary mele use English predominantly. However, the core tradition of mele — especially oli and mele hula — is conducted in ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi (the Hawaiian language). Understanding the lyrics is essential to understanding the mele.

Why do some mele include place names?

Place names in mele encode knowledge about the land — its winds, rains, waves, and plants — and connect the subject of the mele to a specific ʻāina (land). This is a way of asserting identity and belonging. A mele that names the valley of a chief is also making a claim about that chief’s relationship to the land.

Is it disrespectful to record mele at a festival or show?

It depends on the context. At public festivals like Merrie Monarch, recording is generally permitted. At a family kanikapila or a ceremonial event, it is not. When in doubt, ask a performer or organizer before recording. Never assume that a public performance allows unrestricted sharing of the recording online.

Why mele matters beyond the islands

Mele is not a relic preserved in amber. It is a living, contested, adaptive practice that has survived colonization, language suppression, and the pressures of tourism by being flexible enough to change while remaining anchored to Hawaiian values. For anyone — visitor or lifelong resident — who takes the time to learn the story behind a song, mele offers something rare: a way to hear a place speak its own name.

To understand mele is to understand that Hawaiian culture does not need to be “preserved” as much as it needs to be practiced. Every kanikapila, every Merrie Monarch performance, every grandmother teaching a grandchild a hapa haole tune from the 1940s is an act of continuity. That is the work that keeps the connection alive.

For more on the oral traditions that underpin mele, read Hawaiian Storytelling: Moʻolelo and the Enduring Power of Oral Tradition.

Sources and further reading

Hawaiian Mission Houses Historic Site and Archives. “Mele Tūtū: Songs of our Grandparents.” 2026. 🔗

Maui Now. “Maui Hālau Share Ancient Hula on Kahiko Night of 2026 Merrie Monarch.” 2026. 🔗

Hawaii.com. “Mele in Hawaiian: How Traditional Music Tells the Story of the Islands.” 2025. 🔗

Territorial Airwaves / Harry B. Soria Jr. “Preserving Vintage Hawaiian Recordings.” 🔗

Related reading on IslandHopperGuides

Kalo: The Sacred Root That Binds Hawaiʻi to Its Ancestors — explores the connection between ʻāina, genealogy, and cultural practice that mele also encodes.

Talk Story: Mastering the Art of Hawaiian Conversation and Connection — the conversational tradition that often precedes or follows a kanikapila session.

Pidgin English: Cracking the Code to Hawaiʻi’s Unique Local Language — the linguistic landscape in which mele lyrics are both composed and understood.

The Ahupuaʻa System: A Sustainable Model for Living in Harmony with the Land — the land division system that appears in many mele place-name references.