How Mamoudou N'Diaye meets the movement with music.

Welcome, Mamoudou! Give us a brief introduction.

Hi, I'm Mamoudou N’Diaye, but you might know me as Zohran’s DJ (laughs). I'm a comedian, screenwriter, professor, and DJ living in New York City.

Let's start with that title. How did you end up DJing Mamdani’s victory party?

My friends gave me that title! And actually, the opportunity was sparked by my friends. I was asked to DJ a soccer event by a friend, Chloe. As a soccer player, I was excited because it's the perfect confluence of the hobbies I enjoy. I did the event and donated my time. 

Then, days later, I got a text from Chloe asking if I was interested in DJing the election night event. At this point, we had all seen the polling numbers, and it seemed it was going to be a victory event. But we've been bamboozled too many times in the last decade. I was hopeful, but keeping my expectations exactly where they needed to be. I said, “Yeah, I’m available.” I have my own equipment, so I just needed to show up.

When I got there, I went through security — I think this is the most security I've ever had to deal with for DJing. Working for a political candidate is a whole different level. I started spinning and looked around the crowd. It was a diverse audience, a whole lot of slices of NYC out there. My friends were in the crowd. AOC was out there. Hasan Piker was there. The Kid Mero was in the mix. It was a who's who. As I looked around, I thought, "Yo, he really did the one thing politics is supposed to do — galvanize people to believe in something. And he pulled it off."  I wanted to play something that would make everyone feel good. 

The race seemed to be over before it began. By 9:15, it was already called. I immediately started playing "Many Men" by 50 Cent, which felt very funny given the barbs that 50 Cent and Mamdani had in the press. I kept playing music to keep the mood up because he wasn't going to come out and speak for a bit. As the DJ, I wanted to make sure everyone had a good time. I wanted everyone to leave in a good mood, feeling they're in a good place, not enough of that going around these days. I was just doing my job. 

“Many men wish death upon me.

Blood in my eye, dog, and I can't see

I'm tryin' to be what I'm destined to be.”

“Many Men” by 50 Cent

And it seemed to work, because nearly every recap of the historic election win mentioned the DJ and the songs you selected. 

It kind of blew up. Having been a DJ for 15 years now, I do parties but don't really advertise.  I kind of prefer anonymity; “if you know, you know” is kinda my flow. It brings the work back to what it is: people actually in the club dancing, connecting with the world through music. But it was very nice to be respected for what I did. My friends are always supportive, but to hear from strangers, "Who's the DJ? What song is this? There's no way he played that," that felt good.

Later, Chloe said, "By the way, people from different magazines are asking for your name." That wasn't my intention. I deadass just wanted people to have fun at the party.

Then I learned that this wasn't just the crowd in the room but a greater digital audience. I'm talking MSNBC, PBS, Twitch streams. Seeing people's comments and posts —"This song is fire," "He's going crazy," "This mix is insane" — it was this nice validation. I was hired to do something, I did it, and people felt it. Not just in the room but all around the city, all around America, all around the world, because mad people wanted this guy to win.

Did you plan your setlist beforehand? Or were you improvising on the spot?

When you prepare too much, God makes a fool of you sometimes. You've got to have a little plan, but for me, I knew there were a few songs that get people going. And I can't be playing Sexyy Red at a political function, Rachel Maddow could be there! Jokes, but that's just not going to fly. I needed a nice blend of familiar sounds, celebratory, extremely New York. Having lived at the intersection of different cultures all my life, I have a very deep library — 15 years of music from different times, spaces, and places that I’ve used professionally and loved personally. New York's the perfect testing ground for that.

I wanted to play a few songs that felt very New York and close to this specific moment. Like "Many Men," I thought that would be funny; that's part of me bringing my comedy background to the decks. When Mamdani hit a million votes, I thought, "I’ve got to play 'A Milli.'" Lil Wayne talks a little spicy on that song, so for the sensitive ears in the crowd, I decided to just play the instrumental. The message was received. My favorite thing was looking out and seeing someone catch what I was doing like “ahhh you got it!”

There were things I didn't do. I wanted to play this Jadakiss intro from the Dipset-LOX  Verzuz a few years ago, where he's talking about being outside in New York, but I thought it was a little too niche. There was a Curtis Sliwa line I thought would be funny about Andrew Cuomo. Some of my friends in the group chat were asking, "You won't play it?" I played a little sample of it to them private, but I didn't actually do it.

I was just reading the energy of the crowd – room literacy is mad important. If the election had gone differently, I couldn't have played any of that. I wouldn't have wanted to be at Javits Center in 2016 when Hillary lost — that would have been miserable. But we won. It was jubilant. 

It was nice to see people dancing and moving. I started playing "Unwritten" by Natasha Bedingfield—always fun. I cut the audio during the chorus when everyone screams the hook, because people remember they're part of a moment, part of a cultural event. We all have certain underpinnings we can connect over. It's nice to engage in that space.

Throughout your career, you've done so much for the people—you've really been invested in causes and campaigns that matter. How do you think about the role of music in movement-making and reflecting the times we're in?

Man, people don't move anymore! Shake something damn it! Get some steps or something! We don't dance. We don't have a enough fun and if we do it gotta go online. Everything feels very miserable. Any ray of sunlight is great. Nostalgia is helpful for people to reconnect to a moment, but I hope we can continue to create new ones – can’t look back forever. Sometimes hearing a song from your childhood or from your culture, seeing somebody hear a song from where they're from or from their heyday of being in the club, is always great.

I think setting a tone is important for whatever event or moment you're trying to create. There was a period when I fell out of the music scene; nothing inspired me, songs became samples of samples of samples, too much noise. I was out of practice downloading new music because it felt stagnant. I used to have a routine every week, but then I got a little older and started thinking, "I want to hear what I grew up with. What are these kids even listening to?" I’m back up on it now but unc mode is settling in I fear.

I use music now to escape, mostly. Nostalgically. Sometimes a new album comes out and I've got to know what it's all about. But often, I use DJing to blend soundscapes and cultures and moments together that people wouldn't expect would mesh. Or if they did expect it, they're happy that the moment they had years ago is back right now.

We all need to move. There's a reason all of our cultures have dance in them. Dance and movement and music inform culture, form intention, and score our lives in ways we're not always fully conscious of. It's always nice to see Puerto Rican aunties out here in New York dancing on the street with their friends or watching someone do the Haka dance in front of Parliament in Australia or New Zealand. All of that dancing, music, tradition, and culture embodied – I just want to be a conduit for it. Help people connect with themselves and each other.

I think you find a way to tell stories through whatever medium you touch—as a writer, as a filmmaker, as a teacher. You've probably met so many people eager to do the same thing. What advice do you have for people looking to find their voice in their own way? 

Every moment that passes is one less moment we have in the world. You have to dive into something. This works with film, writing, DJing, anything.

I think people move too unintentionally now. We consume unintentionally, whether it's food or content. Moving forward with a little bit of intentionality helps go a long way. When I feel I'm not ready to do something. I remind myself, “Hey, you intentionally left a degree in neuroscience to chase comedy. Every year that you get a job or a look or a conversation, you've made intentional steps to be in the place you're in.” Same thing with music, writing, directing – with anything artistic. I made a decision one day that I wanted to do something, and I just kept going in that direction.

Sometimes it's about letting go of the idea of what you thought a moment was going to be and really embracing the reality of it. I came in with a plan, but I was ready to throw the plan right out the window if it didn't end up working out.

Being yourself is not easy. Anyone who has intersecting identities that might often conflict—there are going to be places where there's cultural friction, where you're not going to be 100% yourself. You kind of have to adapt for different situations, read the room.

I've had so many experiences where I had to challenge myself in different ways, and use those experiences to inform your next step. So many people think, "This is what my plan is going to be." But if you're running up stairs and suddenly there are no stairs, you have to find another way up. You've got to figure out what the next step is.

I don't want to speak for Mamdani, electoral politics don’t excite me or inspire me, but it’s clear he can galvanize people and meet them where they are. That's the lesson we could all take for ourselves—to meet ourselves where we are and meet each other. I think that's the best way to cultivate a practice where you can be yourself when you're able to, talk to other people about what they're dealing with, bring in your informed experience, and mix it with their informed experience.

Ultimately, we have to build a collective experience – truth is subjective, fragmented, and increasingly bought and paid for. I think that's going to be the most radical thing we can do offline in the future—creating art, creating music, creating moments that people talk about forever. That is what carries us into the future. The revolution will not be on TikTok, it won’t be distributed by Warner Brothers. It will be out there with people being brave enough to try and others allowing people to try. Bring back mistakes we can learn from.

You can follow what’s next for N’Diaye on Instagram @mamoudouaboutnothing or his website: mamoudoundiaye.com.