Mulatu Astatke, the 82-year-old father of Ethio-jazz, remains a restless innovator. In a recent interview, he discussed his pioneering fusion of traditional Ethiopian scales with jazz and funk, his early struggles for acceptance, and his lifelong mission to give credit to Africa's indigenous musicians.
Early Resistance and a Promise Fulfilled
When Astatke first premiered his new sound in Addis Ababa after years abroad, the audience was not impressed. “Stop,” he was told. “No more!” He bowed, walked off, and vowed, “One day, I’ll come back and show you.” Decades later, audiences worldwide have fallen under the spell of his otherworldly music. Days after his performance at London’s Royal Festival Hall in June—expected to be his last UK show—he recalled the moment with quiet satisfaction.
Forging a New Genre
Astatke’s Ethio-jazz is built on the distinct pentatonic scales of traditional Ethiopian music, layered with western-style jazz, funk, and Afro-Latin rhythms. He weaves in traditional instruments such as the krar, masenqo, and kebero, as well as religious chants dating back to the fourth century. “Ethio-jazz is a beautiful science,” he says. “You can hear jazz, you can hear 12th notes, you can hear the 5th notes and everything all combined together.”
His journey began at 16, when his parents sent him to a boarding school in Wrexham, north Wales, to study aeronautical engineering. There he picked up the trumpet and was encouraged toward music. He later studied at London’s Trinity College of Music and Boston’s Berklee College of Music, where he became the first African student. Throughout the late 1960s, he shuttled between New York and Addis Ababa, recording with his group the Ethiopian Quintet and releasing singles for Amha Records, Ethiopia’s first independent label. “I really wanted to be different, I wanted to be myself, I wanted to be Mulatu,” he says of those years.
Golden Age and Political Turmoil
Returning to Addis with his vibraphone and electric keyboards, Astatke found a golden age of nightlife and music under Emperor Haile Selassie’s reign, which served as fertile ground for experimentation. In 1973, he performed with Duke Ellington, who told him, “I never expected this from an African.” Ellington loved the Ethio-jazz, Astatke recalls wistfully.
That era ended when Selassie was deposed by a Marxist regime in 1974, ushering in a repressive period in which hundreds of thousands of Ethiopians were killed, jailed, or exiled. Astatke is reticent about politics. “I have no involvement with the military, I have no involvement with politics, I have no involvement with nobody. I live peacefully. That’s how I survive,” he says firmly.
Honouring Africa’s Indigenous Musicians
Astatke’s passion lies in ensuring that Ethiopia’s cultural contributions are recognized. He points to the Derashe tribe in southern Ethiopia, who play diminished scales similar to those used by Charlie Parker. “Who is first? Is it Charlie Parker or this tribe?” he asks. “We never give respect to these people.” He compares the masenqo and the cello, and the cha-cha and mambo rhythms he heard in Cuba with similar sounds in Nigerian, Ghanaian, and Tanzanian music.
He also notes that Japan’s traditional music uses the same five-note scale as Ethiopia, and contrasts Beethoven and Tchaikovsky’s notations with those of St Yared, a sixth-century Aksumite composer. “We don’t do any research, we go more to Europe instead of doing research on African people,” he says. “I feel sorry for the educational system in the world, culturally.”
Continuing the Mission
In the 1990s, Astatke visited indigenous communities such as the Derashe and the Anuak people in Gambella, staying in huts and having long discussions. “The bush people created Mulatu, because I became a musician by listening to the masenqo,” he says. His manager shows videos of Astatke performing with Derashe tribespeople and traditional krar players. “They created me,” he says.
Astatke will soon return to Addis Ababa, where his African Jazz Village, opened in 2013 and now run by his son, continues to spotlight local musicians. His next album, still unnamed, will feature musicians from “the bush” as well as those in Addis. “Promoting Ethiopia, promoting our cultural people to the world, that’s what makes me so great and happy,” he says. “It took me years and years, but finally we made it.” He adds, “Give respect to Africa and the bush people.”
