Twelve tracks from an Ethiopian-born artist whose debut album was so hard to categorise that his label essentially gave up trying. Kenna is one of pop's great what-ifs.

Kenna
Kenna Zemedkun was born in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, and raised in Virginia Beach, where he became close friends with Chad Hugo of The Neptunes. That friendship produced his 2003 debut New Sacred Cow, produced largely by Hugo, and one of the more interesting records of its decade.
The problem was that nobody could file it. Kenna makes new wave — synthesisers, Depeche Mode and U2 as reference points, big melodic hooks — sung by a Black artist and produced by a hip-hop producer, at a moment when the American industry had no category for that. The album was reportedly shelved and delayed repeatedly.
He has since released sporadically, worked as a photographer and climate activist, and become a genuine cult figure — the kind of artist other musicians name.
What to listen for
"Hell Bent"-era material and "Daylight" are the closest to conventional pop and the best entry points.
"Baptized In Blacklight" is the signature track from Make Sure They See My Face and shows the full scope of the production — enormous, layered, and genuinely strange.
"Say Goodbye To Love" is the most emotionally direct, and "Be Still" the quietest.
"Games You Can Win" with RJD2 is the collaboration worth flagging — RJD2 is one of the great instrumental hip-hop producers, and the pairing suits both.
"vexed and glorious," "war in me" and "love/hate sensation" come from his later, more experimental work.
"Static" and "Loose Wires / Blink Radio" are the deepest cuts here.
Throughout, listen to the vocal placement. Kenna sings high and slightly detached, which is a new wave inheritance rather than an R&B one, and it is the single thing that most confused the people trying to market him.
Go deeper
New Sacred Cow (2003) is the album, and it is worth seeking out.
Chad Hugo's work outside The Neptunes is the thread to pull — he is consistently the less-discussed half of that partnership and arguably the more musically curious.
For artists caught in the same categorisation trap: TV on the Radio, Bloc Party's Kele Okereke, Santigold and, going back, Fishbone and Living Colour. The history of Black artists in rock is long and has been repeatedly erased.
A closing thought on what went wrong. Kenna's career is the clearest case study available in how badly the American industry handled artists who did not fit a demographic assumption — the music was finished, the producer was one of the most successful alive, and the problem was entirely one of categorisation. Two decades on, the genre-fluidity that made him unmarketable is simply how pop works.
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