A black vinyl record with a brick-red label spun on the Philips gramophone, playing Muluken Melese’s Bemistir Kiberign during one of our chaotic childhood birthday parties in the 1980s. The gramophone sat on a mantelpiece made of real red brick—another relic of that decade.
In Addis Ababa’s mild highland climate, where the temperature hovers around room temperature year-round, there was little need for a fireplace. Many homes built before the 1990s had one—a purely decorative feature that never saw a burning log or a trail of smoke up the chimney. It was an architectural fad, more sentimental than functional, a mark of an era’s aesthetic taste.
The tempo of the 45 RPM record and the melancholic lyrics—sung by a lover pleading with his sweetheart to hush their separation—cast a tender, romantic spell. Muluken’s soothing tenor voice created an aura of quiet sorrow and irresistible charm, blending vulnerability and grace in a way few artists could.
I remember the vinyl’s cover vividly: Muluken, in his prime, with a magnificent Afro, striking features, and a faint, knowing smile. Dressed in a pitch-black suit, crisp white shirt, and black tie, he stood with arms akimbo—a portrait of confidence and cool. It captured the allure of the singer who, in his day, had admirers and even infatuated fans trailing in his wake.
On the B-side was Abetarikim Woy, a song that felt like a sequel to Bemistir Kiberign, in which a lover pleads for reconciliation. To my surprise, a lifelong friend—my classmate since kindergarten—once told me that Muluken had written the song not for a romantic partner but for his mother, Tsehay.
I met the gracious woman during one of our campus visits. Her name, mentioned repeatedly in the song, carried a resonance that, to listeners, might have sounded romantic, but in truth reflected a son’s devotion. She was kind-hearted, intelligent, and elegant—a woman who left a deep impression on those who met her.
I recall one dinner when our parents sat together, reminiscing about the past. Our fathers had once played soccer together, sharing laughter and stories that outlived them all. Muluken’s brief infatuation with Tsehay had long preceded her marriage and our own births.
Muluken reached another artistic peak in the mid-1990s with the release of Nanu Nanu Neyi, an instant hit that transcended age and class. From shoeshine boys to city youth to elders, everyone sang it. The song was everywhere—on the radio, in bars, on street corners—and became part of Ethiopia’s shared cultural memory.
True to his genius, Muluken reimagined Nanu Nanu Neyi from a traditional folk tune once sung by lovers in fields and by riversides. He infused it with modern rhythm and danceable energy, bridging the rural and the urban, the old and the new. His gift lay in transforming the ancient into something vividly contemporary—music that was generous, timeless, and profoundly Ethiopian.
The Artistry of Muluken Melese
Songs like Akal Gela, Lakilgn, Lebo Ney, and Che Belew reveal Muluken’s uncanny ability to merge seemingly disparate styles and elevate them into unforgettable, almost unrepeatable heights of artistry. Only Muluken could pull off such a feat.
Songwriters such as Alemtsehay Wedajo, Tesfaye Lemesa, and others often watched with a bittersweet mix of pride and awe as Muluken transformed their lyrics beyond recognition. He would spend days, sometimes weeks, musing over every word, line, and stanza—meditating, experimenting, refining, and softening—until he arrived at a version uniquely his own. The result was always extraordinary.
Muluken’s music was like a vintage car, a well-aged wine, or a perfectly preserved painting—its value only increasing with time. It never went out of style, never lost its luster.
I was still in elementary school when Muluken released yet another earthshaking hit, Ney Ney Wedaje, along with other unforgettable pieces. Once again, he proved that his creative powers and lyrical mastery were in a league of their own. The public’s response was thunderous and universal, leaving little room for doubt or dissent.
Though deeply Ethiopian in sound and spirit, Ney Ney Wedaje felt like something entirely new—delightful, captivating, and fresh. Muluken’s smooth tenor (often mistaken for a soprano) gave the song life and romance, transforming it into an enduring anthem of love and nostalgia. Hearing it today evokes emotions few memories can match. It remains the soundtrack of an era—the very heartbeat of the 1980s—and a defining milestone in the history of Ethiopian music.
Muluken went on to replicate that success again and again, achieving in just over a decade what most musicians could not in a lifetime. Then, in the mid-1980s, he did the unthinkable: he walked away from it all.
At the height of his fame, Muluken disappeared from the musical stage, leaving behind a legacy both dazzling and mysterious. For nearly a decade, his whereabouts and wellbeing were matters of speculation. Then, as suddenly as he had vanished, he reemerged—this time as an evangelical Christian minister and gospel singer. The stage had changed, the audience was different, but the gift remained the same: the unmistakable voice and soul of Muluken Melese.
The Eternal Voice
Muluken Melese passed away in April 2024, at the age of 70, after nearly four decades away from secular music. Yet even in absence, his fame and stature never dimmed. His legacy continues to shine—an enduring light, leaving behind shoes far too large to fill.
His influence remains immense. Generations of fans still celebrate his work, even though Muluken himself had long renounced his secular songs after devoting his life to faith. The music world, however, refused to let him go. To Ethiopian audiences, he remains a legend, a national treasure whose artistry few can match.
For me, nothing compares to the depth, flavor, and technical brilliance he achieved. I often wonder whether anyone will ever reach that level of mastery. Muluken remains close to my heart, and I trust that sentiment is shared by many.
His songs were more than melodies—they were short stories of love, woven with plot, rhythm, and emotional tension. They oscillated between joy and sorrow, certainty and ambiguity. For a nation rich in folklore and oral traditions, Muluken stood out as a curator of beauty and memory. Through his songs, he archived Ethiopia’s collective feelings, transforming folklore into lyrical anthropology.
Take one of his earliest works, Hedech Alu. Its opening verse is a masterclass in poetic imagery and vulnerability:
“As I passed by your doorstep yesterday,
I left behind my heart, holding on to my lungs only.
I wish I were the dust on your doorstep,
So I may roll over as you tread on me.”
The lyrics are hauntingly romantic, at once tender and tragic. Muluken sang from the depths of his artistic soul. His performances never felt rehearsed; they felt lived. He didn’t just sing about love—he embodied it. His genius lay in making listeners forget the artifice, to believe in the emotion as truth.
His mastery of Amharic diction, folklore, and musical technique placed him far ahead of his peers and critics alike. To attempt to capture the full scope of his genius in a single article would be an injustice. His life, work, and influence deserve serious study, careful documentation, and cultural preservation.
Yet for someone of his stature, so little biographical material exists. There are few recordings, no comprehensive archives, and almost no television footage. His long self-imposed exile from the stage has left gaps that future generations must work to fill.
It is not too late to do so. His story can still be reconstructed through those who knew him—family, friends, collaborators, and admirers. His voice, once etched into vinyl and memory, continues to echo across time—a voice that defined an era, and in doing so, defined us all. To document Muluken Melese is to document a vital chapter of Ethiopian music and modern cultural identity.
Bereket Balcha holds a Bachelor of Arts in Sociology and Social Anthropology from Addis Ababa University (AAU) and a Diploma in Purchasing and Supply Chain Management from Addis Ababa Commercial College/AAU. His extensive professional background encompasses decades of experience in the aviation industry in diverse roles, complemented by a two-year engagement at the Ethiopia Insurance Corporation. He can be reached at [email protected])
Contributed by Bereket Balcha