To observe Matún Lesguer, you didn’t need to know him. He presented an especially stark contrast to a packed set: he was cool, precise, and totally focused on the moment without drawing attention to himself. Others would incline toward boisterousness and swagger, but Matún blended in silently with the space, bringing harmony out of disorder with unexpectedly effective ease.
He took a methodical, layer-by-layer approach to music, much like an engineer does electronics. He started studying the piano at the age of eleven, using instinct rather than official instruction. As he listened again and again, he saw how the tone of one note was twisted by the next. His work as DJ Neoshy would later be defined by this early focus on micro-patterns. His foundation was already extremely successful when he enrolled in the UCPA Ecole des DJ in Poitiers.
During his teenage years, he combined new digital tools with conventional music structure by including music software into his practice. Every night turned into a refinement sandbox. For him, mixing music repeatedly was never boring; rather, it was a form of rhythmic meditation. This unwavering patience significantly aided his journey from experimentation to mastery.
He met Florian, later known as Edenflow, while attending DJ school. As “Edenshy,” they forged a strategic alliance that went beyond simple creativity. Together, they created music that was emotionally intuitive but felt almost algorithmic in its balance. Their sets combined ambient layering and visual narrative in a particularly inventive way, especially in smaller spaces. As I saw them perform, I was reminded of a swarm of bees, with each component moving separately yet following a single creative logic.
| Full Name | Matéo Lesguer |
|---|---|
| Stage Name | DJ Neoshy |
| Birthdate | October 17, 2002 |
| Birthplace | Haiti |
| Nationality | French |
| Known For | DJ, Digital Developer, Co-founder of “Edenshy” |
| Last Residency | Le Constellation, Crans-Montana, Switzerland |
| Date of Death | January 1, 2026 |
| Cause of Death | Bar fire in Crans-Montana |
| External Source | Paris Match Coverage |
Matún gradually established a foothold in clubs around western France through clever alliances and years of local performances. He arrived regularly rather than noisily. Owners of the venue said he was incredibly dependable, always ready, and unaffected by last-minute alterations or technical difficulties. He was quite effective in environments that frequently thrive on surprise because he could change mid-set without upsetting the mood.
He agreed to live in Le Constellation in Crans-Montana in 2023. Although it wasn’t a flashy job, it was grounded, and that was important. He felt that the location provided something especially helpful: unrestricted creative freedom. He constructed sets inside those mountain walls that resembled changing settings rather than performances. His friends saw, in a subtle but important way, how grounded he became throughout this period.
Few anticipated that he would pursue a career in digital development in parallel. DJing and coding appear to operate on distinct frequencies at first glance. However, Matě saw them as logical continuations of the same way of thinking. Structure appealed to him. Timing was important to him. Additionally, he seems to find peace in predicting the interactions between systems. He increased his ability to develop, whether it was software or sound, by utilizing that duality.
Next was the 2026 New Year’s Day.
There was a rupture in the Crans-Montana fire. In one brutal night, it changed families and ruined lives. I kept checking the feed as names started to appear, hoping Matún’s wouldn’t be among them. A silent trickle of posts ensued after it was verified. companions. partners. DJs from tiny spaces. They were lamenting a buddy who improved areas without pursuing attention, not the passing of a famous person.
I was taken aback when I read Florian’s reply regarding their unfinished recordings. It was the fracture, not simply the grief. An emotional algorithm governs creative collaborations. Someone takes the initiative. The other finishes. The loop stutters when half of that logic is gone.
Matéo’s recollection has gradually reappeared in discussions over the last four weeks; it has always been measured and never dramatic. He organized playlists days ahead of time, asked nuanced questions during rehearsals, and listened more than he talked, according to friends. He had a very subtle yet incredibly stable presence.
Young artists who are torn between volume and content should take note of this message. Matéo didn’t have to go after the next major event. His development was gradual rather than sudden. He demonstrated how discipline, flexibility, and a readiness to change with the times can be used to build the trip. That lesson is both uplifting and useful for creatives.
His incomplete work, disseminated among colleagues in private, is still in circulation. It is being maintained as blueprints rather than as content to profit from. Every mixture and sample provides hints about a very transparent technique. His effect is still felt in subtle ways by people who appreciated the way he created sound.
And isn’t that what many artists aspire to—a quiet legacy? Resonance—an echo that endures in the process, in shared tools, and in the moments when someone else chooses to complete what you began—rather than fame or perfection.
