Inside the First Ever Boiler Room in Ethiopia

Filmed in Addis Ababa late last year, the set was curated byEthiopian Records, born Endeguena Mulu, and it highlighted Ethiopiyawi Electronic, Azmari music, and Ethio-jazz.

The project is part of Boiler Room'sBroadcast Lab series, which commissions immersive productions from underrepresented artists and communities through an open call for innovative broadcast concepts.

Ethiopian Records, a defining figure in the experimental sound of Ethiopiyawi electronic, submitted a proposal inspired by nearly two decades of exploring traditional Ethiopian music.

"Most of my adult life has been dedicated to creating something eternally Ethiopian and African," he tells OkayAfrica. "That's what I pitch every chance I get in meetings, proposals, and grants, and I did the same here, and I won the call."

Ethiopian Records held the performance at the Moseb Music Center, a space in Addis operated by traditional musicians. There, he brought together artists from different generations and genres, such as Nerliv, Dotphic, Negarit Band, DJ Jazzy Dave, and Azmari Synthesis, to create something collaborative and community-driven. His key takeaway: With the right resources and support, Africans can achieve anything they set their minds to.

In this interview with OkayAfrica, the artist shares the inspiration, process, and deeper purpose behind the project. He also reflects on what it means to be an African artist creating on your terms in a global music industry that was not designed with us in mind.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

OkayAfrica: How did the Boiler Room collaboration in Addis come about, and what was your vision for it?

Ethiopian Records: Boiler Room issued a call for its annual Broadcast Lab Grant, and I applied with a project rooted in my nearly two-decade journey in traditional Ethiopian music. Most of my adult life has been dedicated to creating something that is eternally Ethiopian and African. That's what I pitch every chance I get in meetings, proposals, and grants — and I did the same here, and I won the call.

I have always dreamed of performing with traditional musicians across Ethiopia and Africa. That vision shaped Azmari Synthesis and this broadcast's concept. Live improvisations with jazz musicians like Negarit Band at Fendika and a 2019 gig featuring Jorga Mesfin, a 12-piece band, and vocalist Dibekulu Tafesse further developed the concept by blending traditional quartets with jazz artists and vocalists.

We brought together artists I admire across genres and generations for a rooted, collaborative performance at Moseb Music Center, a venue founded and run by traditional musicians.

I had considered hosting it in public spaces like Merkato, Megenagna's taxi stop, or even for farmers during harvest season in the countryside. Hopefully, I'll do those soon, but I'm grateful this came to life this way. Throughout this interview, I'll urge those with resources, corporate or individual, to support and patronize your local musicians and artists.

The night felt like a deep community affair. What did it mean for you to bring Boiler Room to Ethiopia, and how did the local scene respond?

These opportunities are rare due to the scarcity of resources for African artists on the continent, so I'm always grateful. I always try my best to make the most out of them. Hence, everything was almost entirely done with homegrown talent, including artists, technicians, creatives, visual artists, cinematographers, and so on. It felt like home. It reaffirmed to me that if the resources were available, we could do this ourselves. I am grateful to Boiler Room for providing the resources. My community poured work, sweat, and love into it, and it paid off.

What has been the reaction since the set dropped?

It's been overwhelmingly positive and encouraging. So many messages, DMs, calls, offers, and comments have come through. I'm truly grateful for every one of them. The overwhelmingly positive response from people of different age groups, walks of life, and musical tastes was eye-opening.

As you've noted, you curated a lineup stacked with local talent. What can we learn about the Ethiopian music scene from this lineup?

Ethiopia is not just one sound. What you saw was just a glimpse. There are hundreds of thousands of amazing artists across Ethiopia's many cultures who have yet to be heard, even by Ethiopians themselves. There are still big barriers to entry when it comes to art, especially if you come from a poor, working-class background. You will have a hard time maintaining an art career, and I speak from personal experience.

The lineup showed what's possible with more resources and less pressure to conform to global trends or sponsor expectations. One takeaway should be that, despite music and art being devalued worldwide by businesses beholden to entities indifferent to creative work, there are musicians and artists with powerful stories to tell in every corner of our country, continent, and the world. They should feel empowered to do their thing independently and at a higher level.

Another key takeaway is that individuals with resources should support artists. Businesses need to become less indifferent to art and music and start thinking less about hype and more about culture. People should buy art directly from the artists, and artists should find ways to sell their work directly to their audiences.

For those unfamiliar with the sound, how would you describe Ethiopiyawi electronic music?

Ethiopiyawi electronic is about the process, like most art, not the outcome or the product. It is a name for what my contemporaries and I do, using music technology and our traditional heritage to tell our stories on our own terms. However, I want listeners not to get caught up in genre labels. Focus on the music and its message.

It's not just about adding a kebero sample to a DnB track or a masinqo to a dubstep track, as it has sometimes been written about in the past regarding what we do. For me, it is about being yourself unapologetically, despite the pressure put on us by the global Western machine to conform to whatever expectations it has of Africans. We are going to do what we want, the way we want, and create for ourselves first. I make what I love.

For me, that is what Ethiopiyawi electronic and music in general is about. Others may say otherwise. But my sound reflects what's in my soul. It reflects my faith, my failings, and my strengths; it reflects my people's belief with as much honesty and yearning for betterment as possible.

Your set was filled with unreleased originals, some of which may never be officially released. What inspired you, and what role does ephemerality or exclusivity play in your artistry?

I come from a tradition where music was live, local, experimental, and often for the moment. There were no smartphones or social media. I grew up watching bands like Addis Acoustic Project and spending time at Azmari spots, where I would listen to live performances that might never be heard again.

This isn't about exclusivity; I deeply dislike anything that excludes. It's more about my process and what I can build with the resources and experiences I have. I develop my mixes like production sessions. I'm not a DJ; I'm a music producer sharing my music as such. I have never conformed to the ideas set forth by the global music business on how to share music, like many of my contemporaries worldwide.

Especially now that I have tried it, the path set forth by the global music business is one of exclusivity, focused on profit. That's not a path I want to walk on. We're in an interesting era. Let's make the most out of it and go whichever way speaks to us as artists to find a stronger footing, to experiment, to make mistakes, and to learn.

When creating for a live set versus a studio release, how do you decide what to include in the moment and what to reserve for broader distribution?

I don't really differentiate. Music-making has been a daily practice for over 20 years, a personal tool for growth, discipline, empathy, and spirituality. For a long time, I didn't seriously think about sharing or monetizing music. I have come to realize that we must reimagine how music is shared.

What does "broader distribution" really mean in 2025? In the streaming era, especially for an African artist living and working in Africa, with limited monetization options beyond nightclub gigs or limited brand deals? Must I package everything as albums and pour money into digital marketing? Or can I share music through cinematic storytelling on social media, including mixes and mixtapes, on YouTube, my website, Telegram, Patreon, or even directly on TikTok or Instagram?

Like many of my peers, I'm still figuring this out. But my thinking is, 'Why follow the path of a dying, extractive global business model that's already struggling to sustain itself? A system that rarely ever worked for African artists or the majority of artists worldwide, to begin with.' We have other options. I don't have to follow that route. Instead, I'm experimenting with release methods that feel healthy and true to me. I make mistakes of my own, learn from them, and carve out sustainable paths that work for me rather than blindly repeating the failures of a system that was never built with a kid from East Africa in mind.

Readers, if you care about artists, know that streaming, although convenient for you, is not really helping your favorite artists. Buy their work directly from them.

Ethio-jazz and Azmari music are foundational. How do you balance honoring traditions with innovating for today's global audience?

I don't try to balance or reshape; to be honest, I make what feels good to me. These traditions are living and breathing. People still love them, myself included. The best way to honor them is to share them as I feel them. Not to make them palatable to any audience, but to make them powerful and great for myself first. I don't produce with any audience in mind. I make music I love; anything else would be a disservice to the audience and myself.

You've toured internationally. What are the challenges and joys of carrying a uniquely Ethiopian sound into global spaces?

The challenge is translation and reductive narratives. Ethiopiyawi electronic was a name that I mainly used to protect my work. The West has a tradition of naming or "discovering" things it doesn't own or create in order to profit from them. The West often wants an easy narrative to sell our music for its benefit, which is why I dislike having my work defined by the Western world. It uses reductive terms like "secondhand sound this," "global music that," "world music this," and "afro-futurist that." However, life is not as simple as reductive names that are easily consumable to a Western audience. Most critics and journalists from the West forget that we are experts at what we do. We are experts who can define what we do. We don't need anyone else to define what we do for us.

How has the perception of electronic music evolved in Ethiopia since you started? Is the scene growing in new directions?

Who are some other Ethiopian artists or collectives that deserve more attention?

There are so many, but a few I want to highlight: Mimi Muluken, Moseb Band, Nerliv, Dotphic, Yohana Sahle, Tasew Wondim, Asrat Bosena, Asnaqe Gebreyes, Beza Hailu Lemma, Harerta Teklu, Wegdawit, Iri Di, Negarit Band, Jorga Mesfin, Chalachewu G/Tsadiq, Markeab Abebe, Hyperzema, Zion Rebels, Kassemasse, Uno, Ras Alula, Eyor (DJ Luna), and my family at WagEntertainment.

I would also like to honor Teferi Assefa, founder of Negarit Band, a collaborator, mentor, and friend who passed away back in January. He is a truly irreplaceable figure in modern Ethiopian music.

What's next for you?

Every day, in and out of the studio, I hope to spend my days making music, films, and art without worrying about anything else. I want to create without compromising my practice or my soul. I just want to make art every day, all day. I want to tell the stories I want to tell, write the songs I want to write, collaborate with whomever I choose, make mistakes, correct them, and try again. I want to enable other artists to do the same.

I have been building a space and an infrastructure for myself and my collaborators called Godjo Studios. I intend to grow that further. I am also working on creating a visual universe for my music, crafting cinematic storytelling around it that includes both live-action and animated videos. I'm also exploring ways to monetize my music and art independently.