Skip to main contentSkip to navigationSkip to navigation
Alèmayèhu Eshèté performing with Éthiopiques at the Womad music festival in Wiltshire, 2009.
Alèmayèhu Eshèté performing with Éthiopiques at the Womad music festival in Wiltshire, 2009. Photograph: Samir Hussein/Getty Images
Alèmayèhu Eshèté performing with Éthiopiques at the Womad music festival in Wiltshire, 2009. Photograph: Samir Hussein/Getty Images

Alèmayèhu Eshèté obituary

This article is more than 2 years old
Star of a ‘golden age’ of Ethiopian music known in the west through the influential Éthiopiques CD series

The singer and songwriter Alèmayèhu Eshèté, who has died aged 80, was one of the stars of the “golden age” of Ethiopian music in the 1960s and early 70s – and then became a cult hero for many western musicians after his music was included in the influential Éthiopiques CD series.

A passionate fan of American music – he was famous for his Elvis impersonations while still at school – Eshèté became known as the Abyssinian Elvis, or the Ethiopian James Brown, thanks to his blend of furious funk songs, passionate ballads and wild stage antics. But he was no mere imitator. His songs were created from a fusion of Ethiopian styles, with the distinctive scales that gave them a sometimes eastern-sounding edge, along with influences from American R&B, funk and soul. And he built up his massive following in Ethiopia by singing mostly in Amharic, not English.

This was the era when Addis was famous both for its night life and unique music, much like “swinging London” at the time. But the country was run by Emperor Haile Selassie I, who may have been a music fan (he loved brass bands, and was indirectly responsible for making brass a key feature in the country’s music) but was an authoritarian figure who insisted that all bands and orchestras should be state-controlled.

But that didn’t stop them from being competitive and adventurous. Eshèté was 20 when he was spotted singing in the Addis clubs by Colonel Rètta Dèmèqè, and enrolled in the police orchestra (you didn’t have to be in the police to join). There he was paid a monthly salary, like a civil servant, and sang at state functions and hotel dances – while also sneaking off to sing in the clubs, without official permission. He became one of the stars of the Addis music scene, and at the end of the 60s, when restrictions had lifted a little, he was among the first musicians to join young, independent bands, including the Alèm-Girma Band, which he founded in 1972 with his friend, the composer, arranger and keyboard player Girma Bèyènè.

Always a rebel, Eshèté was also the first to defy the authorities by recording for a then-forbidden independent label, at a time when the government authorities officially held a monopoly on all music sales. He was the only musician to step forward in 1969, when a young record shop owner, Amha Eshèté, asked leading musicians to record for him, in defiance of the law. The result was an officially illegal 45rpm recording of the loping, funky Timarkialesh (released on vinyl, manufactured in India). The authorities were not amused, but the record was a hit, and Amha was eventually allowed to continue – and also continued to work as Eshèté’s producer.

Eshèté proved to be a prolific songwriter with an impressive range, from the James Brown-influenced Tchero Adari Nègn to cool, rhythmic ballads such as Tashamanaletch. And though his lyrics inevitably concentrated on girls and love, he sang about African freedom on the driving, upbeat Tikur Gissila (Black Leopard), or the importance of education on the massively popular Tèmar ledjé (Study, My Son).

But in 1974, everything changed. Selassie was overthrown, the military junta, the Derg, took over, and curfews ended the Addis club scene. Many musicians fled abroad, but Alèmayèhu refused to leave – he now had a wife and family – though he was forced to play at prestige shows for the new government, even singing in Korean for Kim Il-sung (“which I learned, though I had no idea what I was singing”). He remained a hero for Ethiopians both within the country and across the diaspora – but went on to acquire unexpected cult status among western audiences.

The man responsible was a French producer, Francis Falceto, who heard a tape by one of Alèmayèhu’s contemporaries, Mahmoud Ahmed, and was so excited that he began travelling to Ethiopia to hunt out recordings from the 60s and 70s.

In 1997 he began releasing the Éthiopiques series of CDs, which would include two albums (Vols 9 and 22) exclusively devoted to Eshèté. The singer also featured on The Very Best of Éthiopiques compilation, released in 2007. And in June 2008, an Éthiopiques package show played at Glastonbury, after a concert at the Barbican in London. Alèmayèhu was in fine voice, and even demonstrated some of his celebrated high-kicking stage moves, before joining Ahmed, Mulatu Astatke and the saxophonist Getatchew Mekurya for a glorious, driving finale of Alèmayèhu’s song Addis Ababa Bete (Addis Ababa, My Home).

This “eternal youngster” (as Falceto described him) was born in Addis Ababa, where his father, Andarge Eshèté, was one of the few official taxi drivers. His mother, Belaynesh Yusuf, was from the north-central Wollo province, where he spent much of his childhood. He attended the Christian Training Institute in Addis, a boarding school where he sang in the choir, first started listening to western music, including his idol, Elvis, and began sporting a pompadour haircut (he had famously lush hair, like his mother).

An avid filmgoer, Eshèté’s first ambition was to become an actor. He planned to run away to Hollywood with a friend, and they made it as far as Asmara, before his father tracked them down and the duo were sent back to Addis.

His father was equally furious when the young Alèmayèhu became a singer. According to one story, which may or may not be true, his father got a gun and searched the Addis nightclubs for him, threatening to kill him. They were reconciled after he became a celebrity.

Eshèté never gave up wanting to perform, even after heart surgery five years ago, and recently released a song about Covid. At the time of his death he was planning a new musical venture, featuring 50 musicians from different generations.

He is survived by his wife, Ayehu “Ayo” Kebede Desta, to whom he was married for over 50 years, and by seven children and six grandchildren.

Alèmayèhu Eshèté, singer and songwriter, born June 1941; died 2 September 2021

This article was amended on 29 October 2021 to correct the spelling of Amha Eshèté’s name.

Comments (…)

Sign in or create your Guardian account to join the discussion

Most viewed

Most viewed