Orlando Molina: Autorretrato en tres colores

Autoretratto en Très Colores—A Portrait in Three Colors—the debut of Venezuelan guitarist and composer Orlando Molina as a leader, and it is a work steeped in experience. Though recorded over two years, these compositions feel like the product of a much longer journey—one shaped by study, migration, and growth. The album traces the emotional arc of Molina's move from Venezuela to Ireland, carrying with it echoes of loss and distance, discovery and renewal. Melancholy and hope coexist throughout, bound by a deeply felt lyricism that runs through both the arrangements and the playing.

Molina's road to Dublin has been anything but linear. Studies in Cuba, the Netherlands, and Spain have expanded his palette, while collaborations with Wynton Marsalis, salsero Rubén Blades, and Gustavo Dudamel's Simón Bolívar Symphony Orchestra have given him uncommon breadth. It is no surprise, then, that these seven originals reveal a mature writer with a rich musical syntax, where South American folklore quietly underpins a contemporary jazz sensibility.

Latin colors are woven subtly rather than declared. Miguel Siso's earthy cuatro (Latin American four-stringed guitar) brightens "Una Vida, Many Lives," and the samba-tinged "Vía 26" moves with easy grace. Elsewhere, the regional influences are absorbed into rhythm and phrasing rather than surface gesture. The unison choruses sing; the solos breathe. Drummer Matthew Jacobson plays with exquisite restraint, his brushwork painting around the edges. Electric bassist Pablo Contreras, and contributions from three acoustic bassists, favor melodic counterlines over pulse, giving the music lift and flow.

Molina himself is a constant presence—his nylon-string tone warm and tactile, his electric voice incisive but never brash. An acoustic solo on "Vía 26" glows with intimacy; his electric turns on "Una Vida, Many Lives" and "Paciencia" crackle with expressive energy. It is virtuosity in service of feeling, not display.

Pianist Scott Flanigan adds both sparkle and sensitivity, his Rhodes work cushioning Molina's harmonies. Saxophonists Steve Welsh and Eric Chacon shift fluidly between registers, while Alicia García's wordless vocals and Gilbert Mansour's light percussion add texture without clutter. Freddy Adrián's bowed bass prelude to "De lo Vivido a lo Vivo" is a small but luminous moment.

Though individual voices stand out, Autoretratto en Très Colores is ultimately a collective achievement—evidence of Molina's orchestral ear and compositional poise. Beyond the story of one musician's migration lies a broader reflection on jazz itself: its endless movement, its capacity to absorb and transform. A poised and deeply lyrical debut from a guitarist of rare sensitivity.

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