Chapter 02
Lyres, Masenqo and the Azmari Room
5 min
Ethiopia's best-known instruments are easy to recognise in photographs. Their musical life begins after recognition. Wood, hide, string and bow become meaningful through touch: how hard a plectrum strikes, where a hand damps, how a resonator answers, whether an electric pickup brings a quiet instrument to the front of a band.
Krar: rhythm lives inside the strings
The krar is a plucked lyre. Depending on player and construction, it may have five or six strings, an acoustic resonator or amplification, and a role ranging from close vocal accompaniment to forceful stage lead. A player can alternate bass and treble strings, strike chords, damp resonance or build a repeating figure that feels almost percussive.
The krar is more than an emblem of antiquity. In a social song it can leave space for topical text. In a modern group it may run through an amplifier and compete with drums and electric bass. The difference is not authenticity versus corruption. It is musicians solving different acoustic problems.
The archival “Shellela” recording by an unnamed Tigrinya singer with krar makes a useful comparison with Addis recordings. The voice and lyre are exposed, and the missing personal credit is impossible to ignore. Where records preserve performers' names, those names deserve priority over broad cultural labels.
Masenqo: one string can argue
The masenqo is a single-string bowed lute. Its square or diamond-shaped resonator is covered with hide; the instrument is held vertically. That simple description hides the work. The left hand changes the effective string length without a fingerboard. The bow can catch, press, glide or release. A singer may imitate a phrase on the instrument, answer it, or let the masenqo punctuate the text.
Hear Alemayehu Fantay's “Ambasel” and “Selala” back to back. On the first pass, follow only the bow. On the second, hear where the voice overtakes it. On the third, listen for the tiny delays that make accompaniment feel conversational.
At Addis Ababa's Fendika Cultural Center, Habtamu Yishambel offers a present-tense route into masenqo playing. The value of a current venue is not that it certifies an eternal tradition. It lets a listener encounter a working musician, a room and an audience.
Begena: low resonance and disciplined space
The begena is a large lyre associated especially with contemplative and sacred song. Its strings can produce a characteristic buzzing sound created by the relationship between string and bridge. The result is not smooth. It has a dry attack, a dense low body and a halo of noise.
Alemu Aga is the essential starting point. “Fabelehala,” “Abba gran mote” and “Madegana zalasana batbaze” reveal how a repertory emerges across several pieces: the pacing of the voice, the duration of resonance, the refusal to hurry. Headphones help, but volume should remain moderate; the instrument's force lies in texture rather than loudness.
The common nickname “David's harp” belongs to religious and popular ways of understanding the instrument. It should not be mistaken for a proven archaeological family tree. The instrument and its living repertory are already rich enough.
Washint and the human breath
The washint is an end-blown flute, often made from bamboo or another hollow material. Its tone can be airy, focused, rough or piercing according to player, register and microphone distance. Breath is not empty space around the note; it is part of the attack.
Flute traditions vary across regions. A catalogue title such as “Shepherd's Flute Song” records the occupation assigned to one performer and the collector's interpretation of the scene. It does not establish that all washint music is pastoral or solitary.
The better listening question is practical: does the player repeat a short phrase or extend a long one? Is the flute answering a singer, accompanying movement or sounding alone? Does the microphone reveal finger noise and breath, or turn the instrument into a distant scenic effect?
For a named modern entrance, hear Tasew Wendim's The Beauty of Breath / Yetnfash Wubet (2020). He treats the washint as a lead voice with enough tonal range to carry an album, not as a pastoral sound effect. Follow the edge of each attack, then notice how sustained notes change colour as the breath thins.
An azmari is a professional singer-musician whose craft can involve praise, satire, topical verse, humour, memory and improvisation. Krar or masenqo may accompany the voice. The room participates through requests, recognition, laughter, response and payment.
The art loses its centre when described as an anonymous folk custom. At Fendika, Nardos Tesfaw brings a Gondar-rooted azmari practice to nightly performance. Her musical intelligence includes knowing a melodic and poetic repertoire, reading the room and placing a line so its target understands. Meselu Abebaye works as a kebero drummer, dancer and sound technician; Emebet Woldetsdik sings and dances; Habtamu Yishambel plays masenqo. Those roles reveal a small cultural economy, far beyond a costume display.
Improvisation does not mean that nothing has an author. A performer may draw on shared melodic frameworks and familiar verbal forms while making a line for this audience on this night. The preparation is deep enough to look spontaneous.
Amplification changes the social distance
In a small azmari house, a singer can aim a verse at one table. On a festival stage, microphones and monitors enlarge the sound but weaken that intimacy. A krar pickup can produce a firm attack; a masenqo microphone can expose bow noise; a drum can dominate if the mix is careless.
Modern Ethiopian musicians use these changes creatively. An instrument can become a sample, a distorted lead or a rhythmic loop. The name of the instrument does not guarantee a traditional arrangement, and a new arrangement does not erase the instrument's history. Credits tell us who made the decision.
A first evening at Fendika
Check the current programme because every night can be different. If an azmari performance is scheduled, arrive ready to listen before filming. Watch how the singer addresses different parts of the room. Notice who initiates a tempo change, how dance enters and whether the masenqo mirrors the voice or sets up its next move.
Return on another programme night for Kayn Lab, Ethiocolor or Negarit. The contrast is the lesson. A cultural centre can hold inherited performance, ensemble experiment, poetry and amplified contemporary work without pretending they are one genre.
