RIP DJ Mu
Sometime in the early 2000s, my sister Lauren (who's about to have her first child and I'm SO excited!) went to New Zealand. Her trip sounded great, but there was one thing that she did that had such a pivotal impact on my musical taste, my exploration of music, my teaching myself to sing, my absolute undying love not just for music, but for one group in particular; that I'll forever be thankful to the universe for. She had brought back with her two CDs, an album from the group Opensouls called Kaleidoscope, and another album from what would become my all-time favourite musical act, Fat Freddy's Drop, called Based On A True Story.
The album, the second for Fat Freddy's Drop after a recording of a live show called Live at the Matterhorn (a place with some fond memories for me), released in 2005, so I guess it's been about that long since I was listening to it. I've heard it likely hundreds of times and can't wait for the next hundred listens.
Since then, they were fairly prolific in their releases. Their albums always were exploring new paths, trying new things, breaking their own mould again and again, but each release found the space to stand on its own, leading to a catalogue that really is a journey of creation that the listener will always notice. It's superb.
I was at work last Friday and decided to throw on one of their concert film's the group released during COVID, aptly named LOCK-IN, where they play at the empty Michael Fowler concert hall in Wellington, New Zealand, and it's such a strangely nostalgic feeling to remember that that's just how it was back then, but I digress.
I'm also a bit of a YouTube addict, so I tend to jump down to the comments to see what's going on, no matter the video, and the first comment just kicks me right in the gut.
And that's how I learned that my favourite group of all time had lost a founder, Christopher Ta'aloga Faiumu, also known as DJ Mu or Fitchie. One of, in my opinion and surely many others, the most important music producers not just from New Zealand but from the world.
I asked my two colleagues if we should put some calm Friday tunes on to lead us into the weekend, but for me it was a chance to share a recent session set filmed as a concert, dubbed "Wairunga" (a Māori term that means "water above", translating as "stream flowing down from the mountains), which somehow perfectly fit the moment of shock and sadness. They agreed and we all absorbed the delicate opening where you're almost afraid to breathe, just in case you miss anything. It's beautiful. My colleagues approved.
I'm lucky enough to have seen Fat Freddy's Drop a few times, once in Hong Kong, again in Berlin (where I live and where they play regularly), and it's always felt not just like going to a show, but seeing something where you are almost the expert on, where every song is a opening the next page of your favourite book, the next scene of your favourite movie. I know it so familiarly because they've been such a huge part of my life for so long and so much of that is owed to DJ Mu.
I want to offer my respects to Mu's family, his whanau, and to everyone in the entire Fat Freddy's Drop universe. I'm so sorry for your loss. No words can say how thankful I am that such talents came together and that you all could share what you did with us. We are all better for it, all nourished deep in our souls for the music you created. Thank you.
RIP DJ Mu.