The Night Muddy Waters Got My Mojo Working… and 50 Years Later My DAC Did Too

 

I finally got my mojo working.

Picture a shoulder-to-shoulder, chest-to-back crowd of gyrating, undulating, sweaty teens packed into the cellar of Marquette University’s student union. Freshman orientation, 1971.

Local favorite Luther Allison lights the fuse. A small band of us become regulars at the Stone Toad and Humpin’ Hannah’s where Luther held semi-residencies—regular enough that between sets we’d sometimes join the band for a little “herbal” tune-up.

But that night in the cellar was something else.

In walks Muddy Waters.

He looked delighted to be turning a room full of mostly naïve, mostly chaste Catholic kids loose on the blues. He hoochie-coochied, we cried back to his Mannish Boy call, and before long he had his mojo working.

Mojo Buford’s harp wailed and soared. Pinetop Perkins banged the bones. Big Eye Smith worked the skins while Fuzz Jones walked the bottom and kept the groove steady while we were collectively losing our faith.

“C’mon, Virginia!”

John McLaughlin tried to calm us down the next day.

Too little. Too late.

That was then.

This is now—and about finally getting my mojo working with a Mojo Audio Mystique Model Y DAC.

Many years ago I heard one of Ben’s early prototypes and it was unforgettable—frankly it humbled the brand-new DAC I owned at the time. I left with a Deja Vu server and Illuminati power supply fully intending to return soon for a finished DAC.

Not sure why, but it took me years to circle back.

Last night the Mystique Y finally landed in my system.

System for context: Aurender N200 → Mystique Y → Supratek pre → Clayton M300 monos → Vandersteen 7s on Townshend podiums.

Aside from placing the Vandersteens on the Townshend platforms a few months ago, nothing else has changed.

Until last night.

Cold out of the box, the system had been powered down for a couple of days. Song one: Sophie Zelmani’s Oh Dear (Have You Ever Been Out?)

Instantly the hair on the back of my neck started dancing.

Then came Eva Cassidy. Somewhere in the middle of the song I realized I had stopped listening like an audiophile and was just sitting there with wet eyes.

O-Zone Percussion Group’s Jazz Variants punched me in the gut.  
I grabbed the air guitar for Sultans of Swing—the long live version from the Odeon.

And suddenly I was transported back decades to a crowded basement when Muddy got my mojo working.

Ben says, “Just wait. Give it a couple days of steady juice and then leave it alone.”

It’s marinating right now, heading into hour 26.

I’ll leave the superlative descriptions—soundstage, timbre, pace, and all the other audiophile checkboxes—to the pros. What I can say is this: the hyperbole I used to read about this DAC no longer feels like hyperbole. The gushing isn’t marketing copy anymore.

It’s simply observation.

Living in Albuquerque gives me another advantage: access to—and a friendship with—Benjamin Zwickel.

That part is wonderful.

The downside?

When he gets back from AXPONA, he’s planning to stop by with a couple of Mystique models further up the food chain.

I finally got my mojo working.

Now I may be about to find out just how expensive that can get.