You are probably one of the few people in the world who specializes in collecting and promoting vintage records from Eritrea in East Africa. Today, I’d like you to tell us more about Eritrean music, which is still relatively unknown in Japan.
- What sparked your interest in Eritrean music? And prior to that, what kinds of music were you into?
I am of Eritrean heritage, and Eritrean music has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. Some of my earliest memories are of listening to Tekle Kiflemariam, also known as Wedi Tukul, in the late 1980s, and watching recordings of the live performances from the Eritrean Festivals in Bologna, particularly those from 1987 to 1991. Those moments still carry a strong sense of nostalgia for me.
I have always listened to a wide mix of music, but it was not until my mid twenties that I began collecting vinyl records. I still remember the first few I bought: George Duke’s Brazilian Love Affair, Chic’s C’est Chic, and Return to Forever’s Romantic Warrior from a record shop in Notting Hill (London). It was the best twenty pounds I ever spent, and little did I know what was to follow.
- Tell us when and how you started to collect and archive Eritrean records?
In 2011, a friend who hosted a short-lived podcast invited me to talk about our shared love for Eritrean music. At the time, we both felt there was no central place to discover or archive older Eritrean recordings. A few years later, I came across one of the first Eritrean reissues, a compilation featuring Tewolde Redda’s music, originally released on 45s in the early 1970s. Those experiences likely planted a seed in my mind that would grow in the years to come.
It was not until the Covid lockdown that I began exploring what other Eritrean music had been released on vinyl during the 1970s. I shared my journey on social media as a way to exchange information and raise awareness, and that is how Eritrean Anthology came to life. Along the way, I acquired my first original Eritrean vinyl single. I remember thinking how hard it would be to stop at just one, so I kept going, discovering more records and bringing along a community of people who joined me on the journey.
- You mentioned that only a very limited number of titles were released in Eritrea, and only during a brief window in the 1970s. Could you elaborate on the circumstances behind this?
In the early 1970s, Eritrean artists released roughly 70 singles on vinyl 45s. Most of the music was recorded in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, and pressed in factories across Kenya, India, and Italy. They were issued through established labels like Amha and Philips, as well as smaller boutique labels such as Emporio Musicale, Yared Records, and Axum Records. At the time, producing records was expensive and logistically challenging, especially during a period when Eritrea’s struggle for independence was intensifying. As a result, only a small number of artists and songs made it onto vinyl, and production largely ceased by the mid-1970s.
- Can you describe what Eritrean music sounded like back then and what influenced it?
The vinyl records from that era do not fully capture the music across the whole country. They mostly give a glimpse into what was happening in Asmara, the capital. Even though there were not many recording opportunities locally, the city had a lively music scene with musicians performing in clubs, hotels, and community events. The music blended traditional Eritrean rhythms and melodies with influences from Western sounds.
Kagnew Station, the American military radio station in Asmara, had a big influence at the time. I have heard that it played a wide range of music, from jazz and soul to rock and pop, giving local musicians and listeners a taste of sounds from around the world. That exposure seems to have sparked creativity and experimentation, and you can hear its influence on some of the records that leaned more toward Western styles.
- What kinds of themes do the lyrics usually deal with? Are they mostly love songs?
Many of the songs from that period were politically charged, even when they were presented as love songs. At the time, openly expressing political messages could be risky, so musicians often used the language of love and personal emotion to convey deeper ideas about freedom, unity, and resistance. In this way, music became a powerful tool to raise awareness, bring people together, and inspire hope during the struggle for independence.
- How rare would you say Eritrean music records are today? Have you been able to collect most of them so far?
The last records from the vintage era were released in 1975, which means it has been 50 years since that final distribution. Smaller labels produced singles in much lower quantities than the more established ones, making them even rarer. While the exact numbers are unknown, it is nearly impossible today to come across these records in a store. For me, each record feels like a new page in a history book, and I haven’t been able to stop, curious to see how the story unfolds. I am well on my way to completing the set, though some records are in better condition than others. Each discovery brings me closer to understanding the full picture of this remarkable era in Eritrean music.
- Through the Eritrean Anthology, you've been actively promoting Eritrean music. Do you feel that your work is starting to gain traction or resonate with audiences?
I hope it is, though I know Eritrean Anthology is only a small part of a much larger story. There are already so many storytellers in this space, each sharing their own experiences and helping to preserve Eritrean music and culture. I feel grateful to be part of that community, and it’s inspiring to see how these stories continue to live on and connect with people.
- Looking ahead, what kind of vision do you have for the Eritrean Anthology project?
Some of the most meaningful feedback I have received has come from both Eritrean and non-Eritrean listeners. For many Eritreans, hearing this music and learning about the vinyl era has sparked new conversations with their parents about songs and memories they had never shared before. For people around the world, hearing this music for the first time has shown me how deeply it can resonate, even across different cultures, in ways only music can. Through our collaboration on this DJ set, I hope we’re able to reach more people and create similar moments of connection, discovery, and shared appreciation for this music. Looking ahead, I hope to one day pick up the pen and explore these stories in a thoughtful and personal way, capturing the music, the memories, and the people behind them.
