The contest may be new, but it reflects a rapidly expanding trend that is beginning to reshape how music is created, consumed, and debated in Ethiopia\u2019s digital culture.<\/p>\n
According to Abenezer Alemayhu, founder and chief executive of Ehud AI Studio, the initiative is designed to encourage musicians to experiment with emerging tools before they are overtaken by them.<\/p>\n
\u201cAI is taking over whether we like it or not,\u201d he told Shega. \u201cThe question is how we use it.\u201d<\/p>\n
His company, based in the United States and focused on AI-powered creative production, is encouraging participants to generate songs where roughly 70 percent of the composition comes from artificial intelligence. The remaining elements, he says, can reflect human direction and editing.<\/p>\n
Ethiopian music, Abenezer notes, carries distinctive musical structures, including five traditional modal scales that shape melodies and emotional tone. The goal, he says, is not to replace those traditions but to merge them with emerging technologies.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe want that skill to blend with the global trend of AI music,\u201d he said. \u201cIf local composers don\u2019t take action in adopting AI technology, others without that background will take the center stage.\u201d<\/p>\n
The studio is also preparing to launch a separate challenge focused on AI-generated video storytelling in the coming months.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe Ethiopians have many untold stories that remained buried because of limited resources,\u201d he said. \u201cAI gives us a chance to tell them.\u201d<\/p>\n
Over the past year, the wider adoption of AI tools for the creation of music has been visible across Ethiopia\u2019s soundscape. Several songs, ranging from children\u2019s medleys to covers of popular classics, have gone viral, with a limited segment of the populace realizing they were AI productions.<\/p>\n
Last month, An Dhufeen Jira, a popular Afaan Oromo song recorded nearly three decades ago by Dawite Mekonnen, resurfaced online in an unexpected form<\/a>. Produced by Kuraz Production, which has been releasing AI-generated covers of well-known Ethiopian songs, the reimagined version quickly became a viral sensation.<\/p>\n The track accumulated more than 4 million views on YouTube alone, while thousands of TikTok creators adopted the AI cover as background audio for their videos.<\/p>\n The melody carried the cultural fingerprints of the original. Yet behind it was no recording session, no vocalist and no instrumental ensemble. The performance emerged from lines of code recombining patterns learned from decades of recorded music.<\/p>\n Its reach was striking. During the same period, the AI version attracted more listeners than releases by some established artists, including Lij\u00a0Michael, a rapper who launched a new album around the same time. For many listeners, the difference between human and machine production appears to be barely perceptible.<\/p>\n Research<\/a> suggests that more than one in five videos surfaced by YouTube\u2019s algorithm to new users is what industry insiders call \u201cAI slop\u201d, low-quality, AI-generated content designed to rack up views. Channels monetizing such content may be earning millions of dollars annually, but the platform faces a growing dilemma.<\/p>\n A YouTube spokesperson has previously told the Guardian<\/a>: \u201cGenerative AI is a tool, and like any tool it can be used to make both high- and low-quality content. We remain focused on connecting our users with high-quality content, regardless of how it was made. All content uploaded to YouTube must comply with our community guidelines, and if we find that content violates a policy, we remove it.\u201d<\/p>\n Some Ethiopian startups have built a growing audience by experimenting with AI-driven content with the hopes of blending it into a broader service offering. Aynu Labs, the company behind the viral Birabiro<\/a> children\u2019s song last year, is betting on AI to both democratize learning and drive traffic.<\/p>\n Brook Mamo, the company\u2019s co-founder, believes artificial intelligence can introduce a new sonic texture to Ethiopian music while expanding its global reach.<\/p>\n \u201cAI adds a modern vibe while still working with our melodies,\u201d he told Shega.<\/p>\n Streaming platforms, he argues, increasingly favor rhythm and melody over lyrical complexity, a dynamic that algorithmically generated music can easily exploit.<\/p>\n \u201cLyrics often come later,\u201d Brook said. \u201cThe algorithms pick what people listen to.\u201d<\/p>\n Aynu Labs is now translating Birabiro into eight languages, including four Ethiopian languages alongside international ones such as English and Chinese, an effort he says would have been far more difficult without AI tools.<\/p>\n \u201cAI has given us an opportunity to produce international content,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n Yet he also acknowledges that the legal framework surrounding AI-generated music remains unsettled.<\/p>\n \u201cThe legal side here is still very fractured,\u201d Brook said. \u201cUntil the rules are clearer, the best thing we can do is give credit to the original creators whose work inspires what we produce.\u201d<\/p>\n That ambiguity sits at the center of the broader debate. As artificial intelligence grows more capable of generating convincing creative output, the boundaries of authorship and artistic labor are beginning to blur.<\/p>\n Across the global music industry, AI-generated content has moved quickly from novelty to mainstream presence. The generative AI music market, valued at around 570 million dollars in 2024, is projected to reach nearly 2.8 billion dollars by 2030, according to some estimates.<\/a> Streaming platforms are already reporting a surge of machine-produced tracks uploaded daily, often created through increasingly accessible tools. Deezer<\/a>, a France-based digital streaming service, says it now receives roughly 60,000 fully AI-generated songs each day, accounting for about 39 percent of all new submissions, more than double the share recorded a year earlier.<\/p>\n Text-to-music generators and voice-cloning software can assemble complete songs in minutes, imitating musical styles or replicating the vocal characteristics of specific singers. Tasks that once required a recording studio, producers, session musicians and hours of rehearsal can now begin with a short text prompt and an internet connection.<\/p>\n The traditional process of music creation could hardly be more different. Songs often begin with fragments: lyrics scribbled on scrap paper, melodies hummed into a phone recorder during a taxi ride, or hours spent refining a single line until it carries the right emotional weight. Instruments are tuned. Bass lines are rehearsed. Piano phrases are replayed again and again in search of an elusive feeling.<\/p>\n \u201cConventional music production is rarely rushed,\u201d says Elias Girma, a gospel musician and founder of Eluna Studio in Addis Ababa.<\/p>\n Composing a song once required long stretches of experimentation and collaboration, he explains. Even after lyrics and melodies were finished, studio arrangements could take days as musicians refined instrumentation and structure.<\/p>\n That process is beginning to change. Some artists now arrive at the studio with elements of a song already generated by AI.<\/p>\n \u201cSome artists are already coming to the studio with melodies, lyrics and even rhythm generated by AI,\u201d Elias told Shega. \u201cThey arrive with a nearly complete composition and only need final adjustments.\u201d<\/p>\n He still prefers working directly with musicians. But he sees artificial intelligence as part of a longer technological evolution that has repeatedly altered how music is produced.<\/p>\n \u201cTechnology has always helped musicians,\u201d he says. \u201cAI is simply the latest change.\u201d<\/p>\n Economic pressures are also accelerating adoption. Recording a professionally produced track in Ethiopia can cost artists up to 50,000 Birr in studio fees alone, depending on the arrangement. AI tools can generate songs at a fraction of that cost.<\/p>\n Platforms such as Suno, Udio and Produce AI allow users to create full musical tracks from simple prompts. Some offer free tiers while others operate on subscription models. Within minutes, these systems can generate lyrics, melodies, instrumentation, and synthetic vocals based on a user\u2019s instructions.<\/p>\n Behind the scenes, neural networks trained on vast datasets of existing music analyze patterns in melody, rhythm, harmony, and vocal characteristics. When prompted, the systems translate textual instructions into mathematical signals that generate lyrics, compose melodies, arrange instruments, and synthesize vocals. The result is a fully produced track rendered as digital sound waves, sometimes convincing enough to blur the line between imitation and originality.<\/p>\n For many professionals, however, something essential remains missing.<\/p>\n \u201cIt is useful for amateurs,\u201d Elias says. \u201cBut AI lacks one important thing: the human touch.\u201d<\/p>\n That intangible quality, he argues, allows listeners to connect emotionally with a song. Artificial intelligence can replicate patterns, but it cannot easily reproduce the lived experiences and emotional nuance that often shape meaningful music.<\/p>\n There are practical limits as well. AI-generated music cannot perform live, a critical revenue stream for artists at a time when album sales have largely disappeared.<\/p>\n Nahom Getachew, producer and founder of Kaset, a Telegram-based platform that sells Ethiopian music, believes AI could nevertheless find a useful niche in the industry. Advertising agencies, he says, are among the most likely adopters.<\/p>\n \u201cAgencies often come to studios looking for a short background track, sometimes just twenty seconds for an advertisement,\u201d Nahom told Shega. \u201cAI is ideal for that. It can save them a lot of time and money.\u201d<\/p>\n For musicians themselves, he argues, the economics remain largely unchanged.<\/p>\n \u201cArtists today don\u2019t make money from album sales,\u201d Nahom says. \u201cThe real income comes from live performances and tours.\u201d<\/p>\n Others in the industry are more cautious. Jemberu Demeke, a hip-hop artist popular among local audiences, worries about the legal and ethical questions surrounding AI-generated content.<\/p>\n \u201cIf AI producers use other musicians\u2019 work to generate new songs, they must give credit,\u201d he told Shega.<\/p>\n Even so, he acknowledges that resisting technological change may prove futile.<\/p>\n \u201cWe cannot hide from technology,\u201d Jemberu says. \u201cWe have to learn how to use it.\u201d<\/p>\n He believes that a human artist brings something to creative output that can only come from actual experiences and embodied living.<\/p>\n While Ethiopian musicians debate the implications, the deeper global concern extends beyond beats and melodies to something more personal: voices.<\/p>\n![\"Birabiro_crop_bbb8ebb7c2.webp\"](\"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/africa\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/03\/Birabiro_crop_bbb8ebb7c2_ae31630ee5.webp.webp\")
A screenshot of the Birabiro song\u00a0<\/p>\n