There's a retro feel to Honey Dijon's DJ-Kicks—A lot of that music is from the '90s—but that's also because her taste and style are as timeless as her signature leather jackets. Even the new tracks she plays are vintage in spirit: Waajeed's bright, Rhodes-dotted “Right Now” is 2022 but sounds straight out of the mid-'90s, and her own “Finding My Way” is a perfect vocal house. track in the vein of Kerri Chandler. Filled with flute, piano and inspirational words from Ben Westbeech, it's almost convenient but works perfectly as the blissful climax. On the other hand, the itchy percussion on Sir Lord Comixx's 'Soul House' sounds like it's straight out of London's modern jazzy house scene, but actually dates back to 1996.
Dijon's research into these old records highlights how trends live, die and come back in new forms in dance music, a story that is constantly in dialogue with itself. There are always unheard records, rare gems or secret weapons that reveal some new wrinkle in a genre's history. Dijon is an expert at connecting these dots, bringing together eras and audiences at the same time. Who else could combine Art of Tones' 'Praise', to me an awful piece of late 00s techno (and one of two sly thumbs in an otherwise amazing mix), with a Waajeed house jam , and make it sound like that right?
All this musical history comes with a social history, too. Dijon has been a vocal advocate for reminding younger audiences where this music came from: Black and queer people like herself. You can hear this in the mix, with her string of excellent Black house records from the 90s to now, and you can read it in her interviews. But she's also a realist who recognizes that things are changing – she's no longer a badass underground DJ, and she doesn't need to be. Instead, he puts up a big stage and wants everyone to feel welcome on it: “I want to be in a room with drug dealers and prostitutes and trans women and queer people and non-binary people and hedge fund people,” he said in a recent interview .
While some fans will take issue with the idea of hedge fund managers in underground dance music, Honey Dijon's career shows that none of this is really underground anymore. DJing is bigger than ever, and if that means artists like Honey Dijon are finally getting the pay they deserve, that's no bad thing. Her DJ-Kicks it feels like a triumphant calling card—something you'd play for a dance music agnostic to convert to the cause. Filled with killer choruses, richly textured instrumentals and empowering messages of struggle and redemption, it highlights the enduring themes of house music, whether we're talking about a Chicago nightclub in the 70s or a glitzy Ibiza bar in 2024. It's universal and has something that pretty much everyone should appreciate — and isn't that what it's all about to begin with?
