JONNY RAGGA ON SOUND, SOUL, AND STAYING TRUE

When you talk to Jonny Ragga, it’s hard not to be disarmed by his calm. Despite being Ethiopia’s reggae pioneer and a legend across generations whose classic "Kulfun Sichin" (Give Me The Key) still echoes through speakers today, he carries himself with quiet confidence. You might expect bravado, but what you find instead is humility, warmth, and an artist deeply in tune with his purpose.

For Jonny, creation always begins with emotion. “Feelings come first: happiness, sadness. The process helps me carry their weight and turn them into melodies.” His songs are fragments of memories, stitched from nights DJing in Addis clubs and sipping on a Coca-Cola, from witnessing love, from experiencing loss. “Sometimes it starts with a single word or feeling,” Then I start thinking about how to bring it to life.”

It’s been nearly two decades since “Kulfun Sichin” (Give Me The Key), but Jonny’s comeback wasn’t a grand plan. “It wasn’t intentional,” he admits with a grin. During his years away, he was busy working on other projects, touring, and building something bigger than himself. “We started a collective called Autar, which is dedicated to helping Ethiopian artists reclaim their rights and royalties, some lost for over fifty years.

“We wanted to make sure the right people were credited the writers, producers, everyone,” he explains. “It took years to establish, but it’s about giving Ethiopian music the global respect it deserves.”

Now, with “Wiha Ena Esat” (Water and Fire), Jonny returns to the mic with a renewed purpose. “You can’t please everyone,” he says firmly. “But you have to believe the right people will always find your message.” When asked about the pressure to adapt to trends, he stays grounded. “Musicians need to know their identity first, that’s what gives longevity. If this album fails, I can make another one. That’s not arrogance. That’s self-knowledge. I know who I am.”

The duality in his new album is intentional. “The calmness of my studio is water,” Jonny says. “My stage energy is the fire.”

Both elements flow through the record’s core. Wiha meditates on love and family, urging listeners to examine whether love shows up in their actions, not just their words. Esat, meanwhile, burns with rebellion and feminine strength. “Western feminism feels like a bluff sometimes,” Jonny muses thoughtfully. “Here, women carry us our families, communities but they don’t benefit from that strength. Where is real feminism?”

As he speaks, it becomes clear that Wiha Ena Esat isn’t just another album but also a mirror to the current times. “We’re divided by politics, social media, even language,” he sighs. “But why do we choose hate over understanding? I want this album to make people ask that. Why is it easier to post something hateful online than to show support?”

For Jonny, reggae has always been a vessel for truth. “When I see hatred, I remind myself that good people exist, too. Positivity can build a new generation,” he smiles softly. “This hatred we have isn’t ours. It’s inherited. We can change that for the next generation.”

Still, he’s cautious about the rise of AI in music. “AI has no soul,” he says matter-of-factly. “It doesn’t create from experience or pain. Music is spiritual; it has to come from the heart.” He chuckles, “Humans will always have that advantage, so no, I’m not that worried about it. Eventually, the novelty will fade.”

Jonny isn’t anti-technology, though. He archives everything: from performances, studio sessions, and behind the scenes, all recorded on VHS and DVDs. “I want to remember the times I shared with people,” he gestures toward shelves stacked with analog memories. “I learn from them. I enjoy them. And I can use them to create new content and share stories with others if I want to.”

Jonny’s beginnings were far from glamorous. Sneaking into St. Joseph to play drums, forming a live band with scraps of equipment, and barely getting by with limited time and resources. But it was that struggle that forged his sound and his spirit. His advice to young artists is simple: “Know yourself. Know your sound. Stay humble. Be unique and don’t try to be like everyone else.”

For him, legacy isn’t about fame at all, but impact. “I want to help young producers with talent and heart but no resources. Give them a chance. That’s my legacy making music that inspires and opens doors. Ethiopian music deserves that respect.”

Like the title of his new album, Jonny Ragga lives in the space between water and fire. His music flows with tenderness yet blazes with conviction an elemental balance that has kept him grounded for decades. Water cools, fire cleanses, and somewhere in their meeting point stands a man who refuses to lose his essence.

In Jonny’s world, sound is soul and staying true is the only revolution that never goes out of style.