Sezen Aksu: The Voice of a Nation
- Hakan Karaaytu

- Aug 17
- 2 min read

This article was originally published in various magazines in Turkey in 2016. The author has simplified and adapted it for English readers before republishing.
In Turkey, saying Sezen Aksu is almost like saying Turkey itself. For nearly five decades, her music has shaped the emotions, dreams, and heartbreaks of an entire country. People call her the “Little Sparrow,” but her voice has carried the weight of generations.
Sezen Aksu grew up in the coastal city of İzmir. Even as a child, she was restless and curious, often rebelling against her conservative upbringing. When she moved to Istanbul for university, it became clear that her true calling wasn’t in classrooms but on stage. In 1975, she released her first single, and soon after, her unforgettable song “Kaç Yıl Geçti Aradan” announced the arrival of a new star. By the late 1970s, she had written “Kaybolan Yıllar” (“Lost Years”), a song so mature and philosophical that few could believe it came from such a young artist.
Her collaborations shaped Turkish music history. With composer Atilla Özdemiroğlu and lyricist Aysel Gürel, she created “Firuze”, a timeless ballad that resonated with the entire nation. In 1984, her album “Sen Ağlama” (“Don’t Cry”) became a landmark in Turkish pop music, containing hits like “Geri Dön” and “Haydi Gel Benimle Ol.” These songs showed her dual nature: one moment breaking listeners’ hearts, the next moment making them dance in front of the mirror.
But behind the music was a life filled with love, loss, and passion. Her greatest musical partner and love, composer Onno Tunç, inspired many of her songs. Their stormy relationship gave birth to classics like “Ne Kavgam Bitti Ne Sevdam” (“Neither My Fights Nor My Love Ended”). After his tragic death in a plane crash in 1996, Sezen withdrew from the public for a time, channeling her grief into unforgettable songs such as “Unutamam” (“I Can’t Forget”). She also worked closely with Uzay Hepari, a young musician whose sudden death in 1994 inspired her heartbreaking ballad “Küçüğüm.”
Sezen Aksu’s music is not only about love. She has written songs that spoke to social issues: “Unzile” gave voice to the struggles of young girls forced into early marriages, while “Son Bakış” memorialized a young political activist executed in the early 1980s. Her art has always transcended divisions of gender, class, language, and religion.
In her legendary 2002 concert, “Türkiye Şarkıları” (“Songs of Turkey”), she sang in Turkish, Kurdish, Greek, and even religious hymns, performing for an audience that included imams, priests, intellectuals, and ordinary workers. In that moment, she embodied the diversity and contradictions of Turkey itself.
For millions of people, Sezen Aksu is more than a singer. She is a storyteller, a cultural memory, and a source of comfort. She has given her listeners permission to cry, to laugh, to fall in love again, and to endure heartbreak. That is why Turks often say: To speak of Sezen is to speak of Turkey.





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