The godfather of Ethio-jazz plays his last live concert

Ethiopian jazz musician Mulatu Astatke smiled as he raised his arms in the air to greet his audience one last time.

The 82-year-old pioneer, who did so much to bring his blend of musical styles to the world, played his last live concert in London last month after a six-decade performing career.

Twenty years ago, he gained a wider audience when he included his own music in the soundtrack of the 2005 Hollywood movie Broken Flowers, and he gained further attention when one of his recordings was used in last year’s best picture, the Oscar-nominated Nickel Boys.

But since the 1960s he has used the studio and rehearsal room as a laboratory in which he mixes musical styles to create what he calls the “science” of Ethiopian jazz.

It was a cold November evening outside, but inside the West End venue Mulatu was bathed in warm embraces from the crowd eager to see this alchemist at work one last time.

Wearing a shirt featuring work by Ethiopian artist Afework Tekle, he slowly and steadily took to the stage.

He passed through a row of congas and came to his signature instrument, the vibraphone.

With a pink felt mallet in her right hand and one in her left, she began to pick out the mesmerizing rhythm and melody by expertly striking the xylophone-like metal rods, creating a delicate, resonant sound.

The first song was based on a 4th-century melody of the Ethiopian Orthodox church.

This was a nod to his musical heritage and the Ethiopian pentatonic scale, which when combined with other jazz traditions around the world gives his sound a unique flavor.

“It was a very nice show. I really enjoyed it,” Mulatu told the BBC in his soft voice after the concert.

But he wouldn’t be swayed by the emotions he felt as he bid farewell to his international fans.

The concert was “bittersweet” for US musician and composer Dexter Story.

“It was so lively and vibrant. Reverent and elegant… and a wonderful, wonderful energy,” he said.

“I’m so sad we won’t be able to have this world-touring genius.”

But his influence will live on in his records.

“When someone asks me to introduce them to Ethiopian music or Ethiopian culture, my instinct is to play Mulatu,” says London-based fan Juweria Dino.

“They listened to it all over the world,” the musician said proudly. “They liked it. It was very nice.”

He is determined to promote music from Ethiopia and the wider continent, which he feels does not get the recognition it deserves.

“Africa has given so much to the world culturally. It is not recognized as it should be,” he said.

His knowledge of life and culture outside his home began at an early age.

Mulatu was born in 1943 in Jimma, southwestern Ethiopia. When he was young, his parents sent him to Lindisfarne College near Wrexham in North Wales to continue his education.

“I wanted to study engineering,” he said.

However, during his time there, Mulatu was drawn into the world of music and first started playing the trumpet. The school principal at the time recognized his natural talent and eventually encouraged him to devote more of his energy to developing that talent.

“After I finished school, they told me, ‘Mulatu, you will be successful if you become a musician.’ So I followed their advice. I went to Trinity College in London.”

He recalls this period at one of England’s leading music colleges as a formative part of his journey. He has fond memories of playing in jazz clubs with his musician friends.

“[Jamaican] “Joe Harriot was one of the greatest alto saxophone players and we played together at a place called the Metro Club in London,” he said.

To this day, Mulatu holds England close to his heart.

“To me, it was really great to be back here again.”

In the 1960s, Mulatu moved to the United States to enroll at Berklee College of Music in Boston, becoming the first African to do so.

He studied vibraphone and percussion and began to incorporate Latin jazz into his own music, recording his first two albums.

However, when he returned to Addis Ababa in 1969, he created his own sound.

These “Swinging Addis” years changed the face of music at home. Mulatu said that by combining what he learned at Berklee with Ethiopian methods, he “created this science called Ethio-jazz.”

Initially his radical voice was met with complaints.

“I remember them telling me, ‘get off, stop, stay there.’ Because they don’t understand.”

However, the resistance did not last long and its influence increased rapidly.

After Emperor Haile Selassie was dethroned in a coup in 1974, many musicians left the country, but Mulatu remained in Addis and continued to make music.

His deepest inspiration throughout his career came from the traditional musicians in his hometown, whom he referred to as “our scientists”.

His pieces incorporate traditional instruments from his homeland, such as wasint (flute), kebero (drum) and masenqo, a single-stringed violin.

Mulatu says the masenqo’s sound is exactly like a cello.

“But the question is, who came first? The cello or the masenqo?” he asked.

“The problem is that we don’t do research. We have a lot of great scientists in Africa. Great people, geniuses who create all these tools. But we don’t give them credit.”

Today, he says his mission is to expand the range of his hometown’s traditional instruments by “computerizing” the sound.

What makes Ethiopian jazz so special to its fans is its unique blend of modern and traditional.

“It reminds me of a lot of music from South Asia mixed with the pentatonic scale, which reminds me more of Arabic music, and it also reminds me of African percussion sounds,” said concertgoer Joseph Badawi-Crook.

“It’s a completely unique blend and I fell in love with it years ago.”

Mulatu’s legacy spans generations.

“Some of our grandparents, parents, aunts or uncles saw Mulatu throughout his career,” said London-based Ethiopian fan Solliana Kineferigb.

“It’s also amazing to be part of the younger generation and still have the opportunity to see it live.”

Even though the tour is over, Mulatu promises to continue bringing Ethiopian music to the world.

“This is not the end,” he said.