1. An indecipherable musician
Forehead sweating, scarlet hippie glasses perched on his nose, Kenny Dixon Jr. entrusts the braiding of his afro to a professional. His new cut will look perfect with his horseshoe moustache and his questionable mustard-hued t-shirt. In an improbable interview of 2010, the musician answered the Red Bull Music Academy’s questions as they tried to decipher his infernal and mysterious alter ago. Moodymann: “Some folks take a bath when they get home from work. Others make love to their wives or mow their lawns. When I get home, I go crazy every fucking night on my sequencer,” he casually states…
An indolent challenger to the pioneers of house, a sexist and totally out-there musician, Moodymann – just like Mike Banks and Jeff Mills – illuminated the grim city of Detroit with his sampling from the 90s onwards. Sometimes in the shadows, masked with a fishnet hoodie, other times under the spotlight handing out shots of vodka to clubbers, Moodymann remains the champion of an underground scene allergic to the jet-set when it suits him. His latest EP, Sinner, quietly released on the internet at the end of June, wears its name well: the musician conserves his status as a monarch absolved every time by his public.
The erotic house of this underworld genius is not aimed at the “masses” but a reckless squadron that listens (truly) to the murmurings of his cavernous voice.