Tony Donaldson
Amitha Wedisinghe
The passing of Amitha Wedisinghe on 19 February 2025, at the age of 82, marked the end of an era for Sri Lankan music. A prominent veteran singer, a dedicated music teacher, and a ranked artist at the Sri Lanka Broadcasting Corporation (SLBC), Wedisinghe was a fierce guardian of the “Golden Era” of Sinhala song. Her life’s work was defined by a profound commitment to the artistic standards she believed were essential to the nation’s cultural identity.
Amitha’s journey began with a moment that has since become a piece of musical folklore. In 1954, at the age of eight, she participated in a Radio Ceylon amateur program. Being too small to reach the equipment, she was famously lifted to the microphone to perform her first song, “Itipandama Thaniwee.” This precocious debut blossomed into a career deeply intertwined with the music of the legendary Sunil Santha. Over the decades, she gifted the nation evergreen hits such as “Ran Dorin Enna Adaren,” “Anothaththa Wila,” “Adara Charika,” and “Senkadagalapura Dalada Budures,” cementing her place as a premier vocal talent.
Beyond her performances, Wedisinghe was a lifelong academic and educator. After completing her Visharada exam in 1968, she dedicated over 20 years to the classroom. Her leadership eventually led her to serve as the Director of Education for the Music Division in the Kalutara Education Zone. Her contributions to the arts did not go unnoticed; she was honoured with the Silver Screen Award for her outstanding impact on Sinhala cinema and song.
On a personal level, those who encountered Amitha found her to be as generous in spirit as she was in talent. When I met her in 2016 to conduct an oral history interview for a research project on Sunil Santha, she proved to be a remarkably positive and open individual. She spent hours sharing intimate recollections of a music history she did not just witness, but helped shape.
However, Amitha was also a vocal critic of the direction in which modern music was heading. In a poignant interview conducted by Renuka Nishanthi for the newspaper Rankatha in 2010, titled “There is nothing good to be seen in art today,” she provided a stark assessment of the industry. She lamented the loss of the rigorous oversight that characterized the Radio Ceylon era, where experts strictly vetted lyrics and melodies before they reached the public. She drew a sharp contrast between the subtlety and metaphor of older songs and the “blunt and explicit” nature of modern lyrics.
For Wedisinghe, artistic integrity was paramount. She firmly believed that a singer who could not create their own original work could not truly be called an artist. This conviction fuelled her strong opposition to the culture of “cover songs,” as she maintained that a song’s true identity remains inextricably linked to its original creator.
Her critique extended to the commercialization of talent through “SMS culture.” She argued that reality show voting systems shifted the focus from technical skill and vocal range to mere popularity and external appearance. While she appreciated the music of Western icons like Elton John and ABBA, she was critical of the local adoption of what she termed “wild” elements, such as rap, which she felt lacked aesthetic value. She blamed the “mushrooming” of private television channels for prioritizing profit and sensationalism over the preservation of art.
Amitha Wedisinghe’s perspective was rooted in a deep historical appreciation for the period between the 1940s and 1980s—a span she considered the peak of Sinhala music. She credited pioneers like Sunil Santha for establishing a unique Sri Lankan identity independent of North Indian influences. To restore this quality, she advocated for government intervention, proposing that the Department of Cultural Affairs should mandate a vetting process for all broadcasted music.
Amitha Wedisinghe was more than a singer; she was a cultural sentinel. She leaves behind a legacy of discipline, education, and an uncompromising love for the “Golden Era.” While her voice has fallen silent, her defence of Sri Lankan musical identity continues to resonate as a guiding light for future generations of artists.
The opening song of the film Ran Thisare, titled ‘Ira Handa Paayana Loke’, was recorded last week at the Sarasavi Studio. This is a song written by Sri Chandraratne Manawasinghe. Prior to the recording, producer John Amaratunga and others are pictured in discussion. (From left) John Amaratunga, P. B. K. Seneviratne, Punya Heendeniya, D. R. Nanayakkara, Narada Disasekara, W. D. Amaradeva, Amitha Wedisinghe, Mallika Perera, and Latha Wedisinghe are present here.
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IN HER OWN WORDS: THE 2010 RANKATHA INTERVIEW
There is nothing good to be seen in art today
Rankatha, September/October 2010.
Interviewed by Renuka Nishanthi
Only a similarly beautiful and sensitive heart can truly experience the beauty of a song. She, who made music her soul, breathed her own spiritual life into it and offered it to us. She has managed to remain in both your memory and mine for generations. Not only that, she remains dedicated to generously sharing her musical knowledge with future generations even to this day. She is none other than the talented singer, Amitha Wedisinghe. She joined us for a conversation recently. This is how she awakened thoughts on the evolution of eras from then to now.
What is the benefit a person gains through music?
One gains great enjoyment by listening to a good song. Just as the body receives good food, the mind receives great satisfaction. It is essential for our children to have the opportunity to listen to good music. Through that, children lean towards things like art and aesthetics. But today, there is hardly anything good left to see in art; there is very little available. There is very little available. Even that is difficult to select and differentiate. That is why children’s thoughts have become hardened.
How do you see the development of the art of song from then to now?
I entered the field as a musician in the year 1962. At that time, it was mostly Hindustani music. During that period, Sinhala music hadn’t developed much. Almost all Sinhala lyrics were sung to Hindi melodies. It was during that time that Ananda Samarakoon, Sunil Shantha, B. S. Perera, and other musicians joined the field. After that, a certain change became visible in our musical art. Simultaneously, with the arrival of radio in the 1940s—and through the efforts of people like W. D. Amaradeva and Ananda Samarakoon—the practice of copying Hindi melodies ceased, and songs with our own unique identity began to emerge.
However, today, the television channels popping up like mushrooms are simply destroying music. Of course, this doesn’t happen with every channel; there are still those that produce very high-quality musical programs. Regardless, I believe there was significant progress in music until the 1970s-80s decade. But after that, it feels as if that progress just came to a standstill.
Can you see a difference when looking at the song lyrics of back then compared to the lyrics of today?
There is a lot to say about that. When we used to sing songs for the radio, we weren’t allowed to sing however we wanted. There was a standard for it. There was a separate official appointed to review the lyrics. But today, none of that exists. Likewise, there was a great sense of discipline in the songs we sang. Even if you take a love song, its beauty was conveyed through metaphor (indirectly). But look at today. They say “I will kiss your lips” quite bluntly. Not only that, they even show two people acting it out on the television. There is nothing left there for the mind to imagine and enjoy. I am not saying that there is a lack of talented children in the new generation; what I am saying is that there are many highly talented children today, but even they have been led astray by this system.
Today, we increasingly see the songs of one singer being performed by another. What are your thoughts on that?
I do not approve of that at all. If a person cannot create and sing a song of their own, they are by no means an artist. I wouldn’t even like it if my own child were to sing one of my songs. The true identity of a song remains with its original creator.
Has the blending of Western music affected the evolution of local music?
Western music is also a noble form of music. Look at how beautiful the music of Elton John and ABBA is. There is much we can take from Western music. However, it is my opinion that our people take the unusable, ‘wild’ parts of it instead. Because of this rapping, our music has become nonsensical. I personally don’t believe that any growth or enjoyment in music will come from that.
The ‘S.M.S. culture’ is widely used in the world of song today. What is the impact of that?
That S.M.S. method is something that existed on the radio in the early era. Back then, telephone facilities weren’t that common, you know? Everything was done through the mail. People would listen to our songs and send their appreciation via post. In the 1950s, there was a program called ‘Adhunika Paya’ (Amateur Hour). Based on the postcards sent by listeners who heard my songs, I even won first place. Today, because telephone facilities are so widespread, people send SMS. We must evolve along with the developing world.
What happens now is that for a competition, a few of Sri Lanka’s top-tier singers are appointed as judges. They select correctly by observing the proper vocal range and singing technique. But after that, the judging is handed over to the fans. Not all of them truly understand music, do they? Another major issue is that many people send an SMS based on looks. In that process, quality music loses its place.
Finally, what kind of background do you believe should be created to foster a song culture with high aesthetic value?
The government can help with this. The Department of Cultural Affairs can also help. Common regulations should be established even for private, non-government channels, mandating that prior approval from the Department of Cultural Affairs must be secured before any song is broadcast.
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