DJ MoCity: ‘Owning My Identity: Iraqi, Global, And Unapologetic’

by Alexandra Mansilla

DJ MoCity: ‘Owning My Identity: Iraqi, Global, And Unapologetic’

21 Feb 2025

Community builder, co-founder of BoxoutFM, pioneer of sound, cultural connector, co-founder of India’s first reggae collective, Reggae Rajahs, DJ, promoter, label owner, music entrepreneur, and radio host. The list of what MoCity (aka Mohammed Abood, or simply Mo) does feels endless. And honestly? It is. Oh, and let’s not forget — there is an art gallery in the mix too.

How does he do it all? No clue. But one thing is for sure — he is a legend who has been shaking up the region’s music industry for decades.

And soon, on February 22, he will be performing at Karak on the Dhow, bringing his signature sound and a few surprises. Don’t miss it — it is an experience worth having.

Before that, we caught up with Mo to dive into his story, what he is up to now, his thoughts on identity crises, and — most importantly — how much coffee he drinks these days (because, at one point, it was almost 12 cups a day!).

— Hey Mo! Nice to meet you! Let’s take it back — way back. You were born in Baghdad and raised between there and New Delhi, right?

— I was born in Iraq and raised in India. But, actually, the first place I lived was Yugoslavia, back in the 80s — before the war. My father worked for Iraqi Airways, and that is why we moved there. Later, we returned to Iraq for a while before his next job posting took us to India. So most of my life, I lived in India.

— Oh, Yugoslavia just kind of happened out of nowhere! But as I read, you spent your early days as a hip-hop-loving teenager in New Delhi. Take me back to that time, please. What was that era like for you?

— I grew up in the ‘90s, so everything from MTV to oversized jerseys, hip-hop, and breakdancing — that whole era really shaped me and became a big part of my identity.

I went to an Iraqi international school in New Delhi, India, for Arabic-speaking kids, but our day ended early — around 1:30 PM. After that, a bunch of us from different international schools — Russian, Japanese, German, French — would all meet up at this billiards place. That spot became more than just a hangout; it was where music started becoming a real part of our identities. It was outside of school, with those kids, that is when I really started understanding music in a different way.

When I was 14, I started rapping and freestyling in New Delhi, attending rap cyphers, and just trying to find my voice. But over time, the rapping faded, and I naturally transitioned into promoting. Within six months, at just 15 years old, I was already organising gigs.

I also have an older brother, and he was the one who made it easier for me to get out and experience things. He would get permission to go out and then convince my parents to let me tag along. He was actually a rapper before I was, and I used to try to imitate him and his friends. Funny enough, he is not involved in music at all now, but he was the reason I got early access to nightlife and started hanging out with people older than me. He is three years older, so that gap gave me a little head start in experiencing things outside my age group.

— You founded the legendary boxout.fm, but before that, you were involved in so many different things. What were you up to before launching it?

— If I had to name the top things I am most proud of, the first would be starting India’s first reggae collective, Reggae Rajahs — which ended up touring the world. It was me, Zorawar Shukla & Raghav Dang, who, about 15 years ago, became a proper sound system outfit, DJing and MCing together. That project took off in ways we never expected — we toured everywhere, from Jamaica to Brazil, Africa to Asia, the UK, and across Europe. We were at our peak, touring with Major Lazer and opening for Snoop Dogg… and then suddenly, my life took a sharp turn.

One day, I woke up in Baghdad, in the middle of a war zone. With dreadlocks. And I thought, "What the hell just happened?" That moment changed everything for me. I got stuck in Iraq for almost a year and a half due to visa complications — I couldn't leave. Eventually, I made my way to Dubai. My mom had moved there, my brother was already living there, and I managed to land a job. I arrived in Dubai in 2012.

I started working for OHM Records, which, in my opinion, laid the foundation for UAE’s electronic music scene. They had started as a record shop in the late ‘90s and early 2000s, bringing in all the best electronic music festivals and club nights to Dubai.

But here is the thing — after being stuck in Iraq for two years, I was a social person who had been completely cut off from social life. So when I finally landed in Dubai, I went all in. Five nights a week, I was out, meeting every single promoter, club owner, and DJ in the city. It was like making up for lost time, and I wasn’t holding back.

Six months into the job, my boss at OHM Records sat me down and basically said: "You came in with all these big ideas, but you haven't done s***. Either get your act together, or you're out."

I needed that wake-up call. Through all that partying, I had actually built all the right connections — and that is when I landed my first huge project: curating all the music for the launch of Dubai Design District (#Meetd3).

I was in charge of booking artists and creating the experience for three days straight. That project became a turning point, securing OHM’s success and pushing my career forward. At the same time, I Co-founded The 264 Cru — a collective, a record label, and a club night. The original Karak Beats was our event. Eventually, I left OHM Records to explore The 264 Cru full-time.

That is when things really started taking off. We launched Vice Middle East, brought Boiler Room to Dubai for the first time and were curating major events like RBMA Weekender. At one point, we had Peggy Gou & Axel Boman playing in the small room and Kode9 headlined the main room — back when nobody even knew who she was.

Just when things were at their peak again, I ran into another visa hiccup. My Dubai visa wasn’t getting renewed, and I had to leave. I have an Iraqi passport, which — let’s be honest — isn’t great for travel or work visas. So, I found myself stuck again. This time, I ejected myself out of The 264 Cru, took one-fifth of my financial shares, and moved back to India.

That is when I started BoxoutFM.

— BoxoutFM, South Asia’s first online community radio. Did you start it because you felt there was a real gap for something like this?

— Yeah, no one was doing anything like this at that time.

I came back to India, and it felt like everyone had moved on — my friends were all in great places, my band was thriving, and the artists I used to manage were doing well. And there I was, totally lost. I had started so many things, then got removed from them, and now I was suddenly back in India with no real sense of why.

That is when I made a decision: I didn’t want to compete with anyone. I wanted to be the platform for everyone. That is how the idea of a radio came about.

At the time, everything in the scene felt so cliquey — the techno crowd stayed separate from the hip-hop crowd, the house scene was its own thing, and even though there was so much innovation happening across genres, labels, and artists, people weren’t really coming together.

So we also launched Boxout Wednesdays, a club night designed to bring everyone into the same space — no genre restrictions, no gatekeeping. That single night ended up giving the city a new identity — and eventually, it built an entire music ecosystem for the country.

— And you closed the radio in 2021, right?

— Yes, we shut down the radio. I needed a break from it. Surviving the pandemic as a radio station was brutal — it drained me mentally and emotionally in every way possible. But I managed to land it safely. And then I had to make a choice — was keeping the radio alive more important, or was it about focusing on the company, my well-being, and the well-being of my team?

India is different from Dubai in that sense. Over there, people pay for tickets, and funding an event is much more straightforward. Here in India, the infrastructure just doesn’t support things in the same way. It is a whole different challenge.

— Do you still believe in radio as a concept?

— I used to really believe in radio. I felt like it created a sense of community, bringing people together in a way that nothing else did. But here in India — and maybe globally, too — people seem to value foreign brands more. Like, take Boiler Room, for example. They get all the sponsorships, and they are doing something like 10 events a year in India — more than they do in London. That just doesn’t sit right with me.

We could have kept BoxoutFM going as a radio station, but the reality is that local brands and sponsors would rather throw their money at a Boiler Room event than support something homegrown. It is globalisation, monopoly, unfair business ethics — the whole system is rigged.

What gets me is that BoxoutFM was just as strong a platform as Boiler Room. But convincing Indian brand managers of that? Impossible. The average Indian consumer wants to be associated with what is perceived as “cool” globally. Boiler Room gives them that — makes them feel connected to some international scene. Meanwhile, BoxoutFM was a bit more nerdy, abstract, underground, and contemporary. And I was never going to compromise people’s art just to fit into some sponsorship bracket.

So, instead of diluting what we built, I would rather pause it at a point where we still loved everything we did.

— You also have your vinyl show, City Goes Wax. What is that all about? And why this name?

— I guess I have this thing where I always try to brand what I do — I don’t like doing things without giving them an identity or a cool name. So, with DJ MoCity… "City" is something I refer to myself as sometimes. And City Goes Wax just made sense — city plays wax, as in vinyl, since wax is the material vinyl records are made of.

It originally started as a vinyl radio show, mainly to set it apart from the other broadcasts I was doing during the pandemic. But City Goes Wax has also become the name I use whenever I am playing an all-vinyl set, whether it is at Honeycomb Hi-Fi or any other venue.

— Got it! So, if you had to rank the projects you are involved in right now from the biggest priority, how would that list look?

— We just opened a gallery here in Delhi — Method Delhi. We decided to step back from doing as many club nights and focus more on art. Now, we are getting involved in art galleries and art fairs, like Art Dubai, India Art Fair and opening the UAE’s first Andy Warhol exhibition. This has all been really exciting — mainly because it is such a new and challenging space for us.

Right now, two major things are keeping me busy: our festivals. One is Jazz Weekender, a jazz festival in New Delhi that happens annually — I might even bring it to Dubai at some point. The other is Goa Sunsplash, a reggae festival we have been running in Goa for the last ten years. Both are full-scale music festivals, and they are really the culmination of everything I have worked on over the last 15–18 years.

Beyond that, we also run a small agency and keep BoxoutFM going as a company. The radio station may have shut down, but we are still active — handling partnerships, touring, content creation, compilations, vinyl releases, and a bunch of other projects across different areas.

— Sounds like you are rocking a whole collection of hats!

— That is actually why I have recently changed my Instagram name. I used to be @djmocity, but in December, I switched it up. I am still DJ MoCity, but I do so much more than just DJing. I didn’t want to be boxed into that one identity or have people overlook everything else I do just because they associate me only with music.

So now, my username is Ibn Ishtar — which is also the name of the company I have started in the UAE, Ishtar.Global focusing on music, art, and cultural projects. Lately, I have been leaning more into art as the next step in my creative journey. Ishtar was a Mesopotamian (modern Iraq) goddess, and for the first time, I wanted to consciously represent my heritage. For years, I was representing hip-hop, reggae, India, the UAE, jazz — but now, this next chapter is about embracing where I am from. No more identity crisis — I am Iraqi, and I am owning it.

— Speaking of identity, do you see yourself as an "Iraqi DJ," or are those two separate things — you are Iraqi, and you are a DJ?

— I have been grappling with identity for years. I am Iraqi, and I am a DJ — simple as that. But the moment I started playing, people put "Iraq" next to my name, like it defined my sound. I never felt the need to play Arabic music or fit into a specific box.

In the last couple of years, there has been a huge wave of Arabic DJs, some of whom are now the biggest names. That’s great, but I don’t fit into that wave — I don’t play only Arabic music. My sound reflects my personal identity, not my passport. And that’s where the identity crisis kicks in. People ask, What are you? Why don’t you fit in?

In the Middle East, Arabic DJs are just now being recognised as artists. Before, they were seen as wedding DJs or tied to celebratory moments. I don’t associate with that — I came up differently. When I started DJing, there was no Instagram, no "Arabic DJ scene" as it exists today.

And then, being in India? To Indians, I am too Arab. To Arabs, I am too Indian. That has given me a unique perspective on music and sound — one that doesn’t fit neatly into any category.

— In November last year, there was an International Music Summit in Dubai, and one of the topics was defining the sound of a region. So, I would love to hear your take — how would you describe the sound of New Delhi?

— It is like drums and chaos. Like — whoa! Delhi has so much to offer, but that energy doesn’t always translate directly into electronic music. Still, the heartbeat of the city? It is heavy drums.

— Great! So, about the upcoming Karak on the Dhow event — you are on the lineup! I was wondering, how did you first connect with Lava and Faizal?

— When I left Dubai, many events started popping up with the name Karak in them. And people kept sending them to me, expecting me to be mad or something — because we used to throw Karak Beats. But honestly? I love it when things inspire people. I don’t get why so many people see something as an imitation rather than just a continuation of creativity.

Then, on one of my trips back to Dubai, I met Faizal. And man, I had such a good time with this guy. He explained everything to me; I heard all the perspectives, all the different takes on it, and at the end of the day, his passion? That spark? That is exactly the kind of energy I respect. I understand what it means to try to bring people together — it is important.

And then, one day, they asked me to play, and it just made sense.

— What can we expect from your set at Karak on the Dhow?

— I am bringing the vibes with a fun mix of Dancehall, Global bass, and some Jamaican hybrid club bangers. That is kind of my core sound — exclusive stuff that no one else in the world can play but me. A lot of it is music I have co-produced or unreleased tracks, so expect something different.

Since there are some reggae DJs on the lineup, I will definitely tap into my reggae side a bit, too.

— Last question, and it is a funny one! I was scrolling through your Instagram and couldn’t help but notice… you are a huge coffee fan, right? I mean, you are obsessed with it?

— Oh yeah, my love for coffee actually started through a gig I used to do in Dubai. I had booked an artist named Daedelus, and he introduced me to this Russian barista, Dimitri — hands down, the guy who made the best coffee I have ever had. I still remember this one espresso shot that basically elevated my entire existence. That was back in 2015, and from that moment, coffee became an obsession.

Dubai, vinyl, and coffee kind of became this intertwined thing for me. I spent way too much money on it, to the point where it was wrecking my finances. When we were building BoxoutFM, coffee basically fueled the whole operation. We had coffee companies sending us kilos of beans because they knew we were running on nothing but caffeine and ambition. At one point, I was doing 12 cups a day — literally not sleeping, just powering through 24/7 programming, six days a week, pushing the limits of what humans can function on.

But in the last three years, I have cut back a lot. Playing more vinyl made me realise I don’t want my hands shaking all the time. So now, I keep it to one strong espresso and maybe an iced Americano later in the day. It is a long way from where I was, and honestly, if you told people who knew me back then, they wouldn’t believe it. But yeah, these days, I am drinking more tea.

by Alexandra Mansilla