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On the scale of regular to rock star, being stuck in traffic leans hard into the mundane. And yet on a humid March afternoon in Texas, this is where I find Gaspard Augé and Xavier de Rosnay — the French electronic music legends better known as Justice.
Augé (44, bearded, tall, taciturn) is in the back seat of an air-conditioned Uber, texting. De Rosnay (41, clean-shaven, shorter, chatty) sits beside him, playing the trivia game on the tablet hanging from the back of the passenger seat, pressing answers with long, skinny fingers as the SUV lurches through the streets of Austin, gridlocked amid South by Southwest. (He gets most of them right — but asks for help when asked to identify New York state by its shape.) The pair arrived here yesterday from Paris, and de Rosnay’s luggage still hasn’t shown up. Last night he went on his first-ever Target run, to procure fresh underwear.
It’s cliché to assume that famous musicians exist in a fantasy bubble of perpetual ease, but you’d be forgiven for being somewhat perplexed by the idea of one-half of the revered duo buying a pack of Hanes at the self-checkout. Still, de Rosnay and his Justice collaborateur Augé look the part: the latter in a brown suit, a vintage ’80s T-shirt and a big belt buckle of gold metal forming the words “Beach Boys,” de Rosnay in dirty white Chucks, skinny black jeans and a black leather jacket strung with fake pearls. Streaks of silver run through his otherwise black hair, and the diamond stud in his left ear appears real. Both indoors and after dark, they keep their sunglasses on.
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But despite looking like ’70s prog-rockers, in the Uber, they’re amiable, relaxed, funny. De Rosnay recounts the time France’s American Film Festival asked them to present a list of their favorite films but cut them from the program seemingly because their choices were too lowbrow. (“But Die Hard is a masterpiece of action film, you know?” he declares.) At this story’s photo shoot, they pull a plastic skeleton lurking in the studio into the frame between them, de Rosnay pouring it a fake cocktail of Diet Coke and Augé inserting a prop cigarette between its jaw bones. And while they partake in their bony friend’s faux cigs for the shoot, they don’t smoke, instead pulling on the little black vapes they intermittently produce from their jackets.
As Justice, Augé and de Rosnay are two of the most respected figures of the last 20 years of electronic music. Their 2007 debut, Cross, brought a fresh, swaggering, hard-edged rock aesthetic — “like the Led Zeppelin of the electronic scene,” says their longtime manager, Pedro Winter — to their native France and the world beyond, and it arrived just as blogs and file-sharing platforms fundamentally shifted how audiences access music. Beyond Daft Punk, they are arguably the best-known French electronic artists of all time, entering the public consciousness alongside a gang of Ed Banger labelmates who felt like the coolest guys at any given art school.
“I guess the U.S. electronic scene was not dormant, but focused on house, and we just entered like punks,” Augé says of the bold and pioneering rock-disco-electronic hybrid they stormed the scene with. Two lauded albums followed — 2011’s Audio, Video, Disco. and 2016’s Woman — and in 2019, Justice won the best dance/electronic album Grammy Award for the live set Woman Worldwide.
Joel Barhamand
Now, the guys are in Texas for 36 hours as they prepare to release Hyperdrama, the first Justice studio album in eight years. Upon its announcement, the news rippled across the electronic music world like the second coming of Christ. But here over dinner — Augé has shrimp cocktail, tuna crudo and a margarita, de Rosnay steak frites and sparkling water — they seem sincerely unsure about who, if anyone, might listen to it.
“Because the album cycle is so long every time, we’re both like, ‘OK, is there going to be anybody that’s still interested?’” Augé says with a laugh.
“For real, no?” says de Rosnay. “We still feel like rookies every time.”
Given Augé and de Rosnay’s singular and perpetually evolving sound, their refusal to market themselves in inauthentic ways and the changes in the industry landscape between each of the duo’s albums, Justice has always existed on the fringes of market demand. But with Hyperdrama, there’s an ambition to “reach a wider audience,” says Winter, who has managed Justice since its formation; founded the act’s label, Ed Banger; and managed Daft Punk until it broke up in 2021.
“EDM has been so much on repeat in the U.S.,” Winter says over Zoom from his home in Paris, a tabby cat perched on his shoulder. “I think and I hope American people are ready for a new cycle and maybe a bit more ambitious music.”
Joel Barhamand
Hyperdrama originated in February 2020, when the guys — still fairly fresh off the Woman cycle — started talking about new music. Having just played live shows that “almost contractually have to be fun immediately,” says de Rosnay, they were interested in making the less straightforward and less danceable music that has characterized their studio albums.
But the pandemic started weeks later, and by December 2020 they’d stopped working on the project entirely, since they couldn’t meet in person safely. Instead, Augé made his debut solo album, 2021’s Escapades, and de Rosnay enjoyed months of uninterrupted time with his daughter, who’s now 12 and whose photo is his phone’s wallpaper image. “It had been like 15 years that I hadn’t been in the same place for more than 10 days,” he says. “Four months in one place with my daughter — it can’t be cooler than this.”
Close friends for two decades, the guys kept in almost constant contact, and as the pandemic waned, they reunited in de Rosnay’s Paris home (a converted horse stable in the city’s 18th arrondissement) and got to work. For previous albums, they’d first spend countless hours digging for granular samples to build on. This time, they made those samples themselves. The idea was to combine the aggressive, visceral energy of techno, particularly its hardcore ’90s subgenre gabber, with what Augé calls “disco sauce.” The music would be at once mechanistic and human, cold and hot, synthetic and organic. (Each Justice album cover iterates the same monolithic cross logo; Hyperdrama’s art, conceived alongside visual artist Thomas Jumin, features a transparent cross with a set of ribs and a nervous system, which de Rosnay says reflects a body of work “about confronting digital things that are perfect and clean with more organic things.”)
In de Rosnay’s living room, they could simply hang out, cook, read and then work when inspiration came. “When you’re in a commercial studio,” says de Rosnay, “you can feel there’s an atmosphere of having to deliver something, having to be productive… and the environment is always a bit sterile. Sometimes you just want to spend half an hour in the home studio, but that’s going to be a good half an hour.”
Their pace was, he says, “very slow,” but over three-and-a-half years, they found the sound they’d been searching for, knowing they’d hit particularly good material when the music inspired them to shake hands and dance. (“If the track is on the album,” Augé says, “it means we high-fived over it at some point.”) Extending the album’s organic theme, this human chemistry (“the technician is Xavier, the harmony is Gaspard,” says Winter) has always been essential to their output.
“Having this moment by yourself, then sending it over on Dropbox and saying, ‘I think it’s kind of good; have fun on the other side,’ ” de Rosnay continues, “it would be impossible [for us] to do it at a distance like that.”
Joel Barhamand
The first track to inspire such celebration was “Incognito,” a three-part opus that shifts gears between ’80s AM radio psychedelia, peak-hours techno and funk. Travis Scott’s multi-movement “SICKO MODE” made them realize that they were “still thinking about music almost in an ancient way,” de Rosnay explains. “Almost by reflex we were like, ‘OK, this song has to be a verse, a chorus, then a shorter verse, then a double chorus.’ ” Instead, they just made what “we wanted to hear, even if it doesn’t make sense in terms of music theory.”
They ultimately amassed over 200 versions of some tracks, and their only disagreement during the production process was about whether to include bongos on the song “After Image.” De Rosnay wanted them and Augé did not; the latter prevailed. (“I recorded the bongo part and it sounded perfect,” de Rosnay says. “I also knew when I was making it that he would hate it.”)
But what most listeners will notice first — maybe even before pressing play — are Hyperdrama’s featured vocalists, who make up the highest-profile collection of guests ever assembled for a Justice album. They’d had Kevin Parker in mind as a vocalist for “almost a decade,” ever since Justice was asked to remix Tame Impala’s 2012 single “Elephant.” (They turned the project down because they didn’t think they could make the original any better.) Parker sings on the album’s lush, punchy lead single, “One Night/All Night,” as well as the gliding album opener, “Never Ender.” They were already friendly with Thundercat and Miguel through Los Angeles nightlife, and they appear on the tough, cinematic album closer, “The End,” as well as the swaggering “Saturnine,” respectively.
One notable artist who doesn’t appear on the album: The Weeknd. In January, a demo of a track Justice did for him leaked online around the same time that the pop star shared several Justice-related images on his Instagram story, fueling rumors that he’d appear on Hyperdrama. The guys now say they never planned to have The Weeknd on the album and that they didn’t even hear the leaked demo before it was taken down. “Like many of those kinds of artists, The Weeknd is working with 10 different producers,” Winter says, adding that “there might be some collaboration happening” between the two acts “in the future.”
I ask Winter if working with more high-profile vocalists was an intentional move to grow Justice’s fan base. “No. No, no, no. It’s definitely not systematic,” he insists. His take is that the duo — which he calls “the boys,” of whom he is “a proud daddy” — is simply more mature, more confident in its production skills and “don’t have that much to prove anymore,” inspiring the act to partner with collaborators who felt like authentic fits.
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“Justice has been a band saying ‘no’ to everything, exactly like when I used to work with Daft Punk,” Winter says. “They really wanted to focus on their own music. Now it has been a 20-year career, so it’s time to open the door and work with other people.” He does admit that having names like Parker or Miguel on the track list can’t hurt. “Of course, a lot of [their fans] will not get the Justice sound… but out of those millions, let’s try to grab the attention and love of some of them.”
Still, de Rosnay says, he and Augé “have no idea who the average Justice fan is. We have no idea if that person likes ‘D.A.N.C.E.’ or likes ‘Stress,’” he continues, referencing two early Justice singles. “We have no idea if they like stuff like Woman. It’s impossible, so we decided not to take that into account at all.”
Regardless of who may comprise that fan base, there’s no doubt that it exists in large numbers. Like Cross, Woman reached No. 1 on the Top Dance/Electronic Albums chart, while Audio, Video, Disco. hit No. 37 on the Billboard 200 in November 2011. Justice has singles scattered across 13 Billboard charts, and its catalog has aggregated 63.3 million official on-demand U.S. streams, according to Luminate. This body of work has also amassed 224.2 million on demand global streams since 2020, when Billboard’s global charts were launched, a number that’s particularly significant given that the act hasn’t released a studio album during this time frame.
Of course, devotees don’t need any data beyond “new Justice album” to get hyped.
When they first got together, after meeting at a Paris house party back when they were both graphic designers, even Augé and de Rosnay weren’t sure what Justice was. They’d met Winter through visual artist So-Me, the Ed Banger art director who was also the duo’s roommate; the trio had gone to Augé’s parents’ house for raclette and “Pedro invited himself because his own home was raclette free, and he was craving for one,” de Rosnay says. Their first release, “We Are Your Friends,” a remix of Simian’s 2002 “Never Be Alone,” was released on Ed Banger in 2006 and almost immediately became the defining anthem of the indie sleaze era.
Emmanuel de Buretel, the head of Ed Banger parent label Because Music, signed Justice around the time it released that remix, having seen the global appetite for French electronic music after he signed acts like Daft Punk and Air. “We love him,” de Rosnay says, “because he’s really a believer that things don’t always produce results immediately.”
The duo’s first original production, the brash, distorted “Waters of Nazareth,” sounded nothing like “We Are Your Friends,” with the song “alienating people” immediately upon release, says de Rosnay. “Even Pedro didn’t want to release [“Waters of Nazareth”] at first.” (It was the late DJ Mehdi, he says, who convinced Winter to put it out.) Every time Justice played it live, audio techs rushed the stage to see if there was a problem with the cables. Friends suggested something might have gone wrong with the vinyl pressing.
“We thought maybe we should have done something else, but then slowly, it started to get noticed,” de Rosnay says, “and it dragged in another crowd of people that were more interested in rock. Like, if The White Stripes made an electronic track, it would sound like ‘Waters of Nazareth.’ ” The act’s second single, the giddy earworm “D.A.N.C.E.,” featured a children’s choir singing over nu-disco production and further confused things. Then, the pair’s third single, the cacophonous and aptly named “Stress,” “alienated the people who liked ‘D.A.N.C.E.’ “
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But the strength of those early singles helped Justice get booked for Coachella in 2007, appearing on the lineup’s bottom row; two months later, Cross came out, becoming a critical and commercial hit despite the fact that making it had been, as de Rosnay puts it, “a struggle at every level, because we had no idea what we were doing” (the duo had also just bought a computer for the first time two years prior). The album’s success validated the act — to an extent. In the wake of Air and Daft Punk — the latter of which wrapped its groundbreaking Alive tour in 2007 — Justice almost assumed such success was standard for a French electronic act. “When we started making music in 2003, thanks to them it was almost normal that you put out a record and everybody on the planet listened to it,” de Rosnay says.
But by the time the duo released Audio, Video, Disco. four years later, its sound had changed again (de Rosnay calls that album “inspired by our love of agricultural ’60s British rock”), along with almost everything about how music was distributed and the broader dance landscape: The EDM boom’s neon and MDMA world was the sonic and spiritual opposite of Justice’s dirty jeans and cigarettes vibe. By the time Woman arrived in 2016, the dominance of digital service providers had increased even more exponentially.
It’s fair then that, sitting here at dinner, the guys aren’t really sure who Hyperdrama is for, or how it will be discovered. They’re unlikely to seek new listeners on TikTok, a platform de Rosnay says they are not “naturally inclined to do” (and anyway, as Winter notes, the four-plus-minute-long songs on Hyperdrama aren’t exactly “TikTok- or Spotify-friendly”). Synchs have helped Justice’s exposure and revenue — the act’s music has appeared in ads for brands like Nike, Adidas and Volvo, in films like John Wick 4 and on TV shows like Netflix’s The Gentlemen — and at an album listening event for music supervisors in Los Angeles last winter, a label representative advised the group to keep Hyperdrama in mind “for your car chase and fight scenes.” The handful of DJ sets the act plays annually (mostly for friends or “events that we feel are interesting for us,” de Rosnay says) are both lucrative and no doubt a reminder to old and new fans that Justice is still a tastemaker.
Still, de Rosnay admits, “[We] have no idea how much we get paid from streams. Not that we don’t care, but we don’t really look out for that.” (With so much time between projects, he continues, “every time we finish making a record, we are, like, ruined.”
“Like, bankrupt,” Augé says.
“Like, we don’t have any money left,” de Rosnay adds. “Because every penny we make with Justice, we invest into stuff that’s not necessarily commercially viable” — like the duo’s live albums (which he calls “almost like a preplanned commercial failure”), complicated and costly concerts and performance films like 2019’s IRIS: A Space Opera by Justice.
Yet, the two agree that “as long as we are not in dire need, we don’t need to earn more money,” de Rosnay says. “We have houses. We have fun. We have food. It sounds cliché, but that’s the truth.”
Joel Barhamand
But while they say that Hyperdrama, like everything else they make, is about passion, artistic integrity and creating an enduring body of work, Winter sees more. “It has been 20 years, and of course we can say Justice had a couple of singles, but it’s not a success story yet,” he says. While massive streaming numbers are “definitely not a goal, I’ll be happy if the songs [get more than] 1 million plays on Spotify. One million plays — we are a joke compared to electronic music today. We are not chasing that, but I think they deserve it.”
And anyway, anyone who has seen the act live knows there’s no better Justice marketing tool than a Justice show — a quasi-religious experience that amalgamates the entirety of the duo’s catalog into a wall of pummeling, pristine electronic glory. The guys spent months working with a team of seven computer scientists to make their new live show, which they’ll debut April 12 at Coachella — a proving ground for ambitious dance productions dating back to Daft Punk’s historic unveiling of its pyramid in 2006. Having risen to the second-from-the-top line of the lineup in the 17 years since their first appearance, they’ll close out the festival’s second-largest venue, the Outdoor Stage.
“Coachella is the festival of all festivals,” Winter says. “To start the tour there is the best promotion you can have.” After that, Justice plays two dates in Mexico (the duo’s leading territory, according to Winter), then a flurry of European summer festivals before returning to North America for four East Coast dates and more on the other side of the country that will be announced in the coming weeks.
“There is definitely big ambition in the U.S. market,” Winter says, adding that South and Central America are also “huge.” The tour ends at Paris’ Accor Arena in December, with a second night added since the first sold out. Winter says he’s “sure they will do a live album” in conjunction with the tour, as is their tradition.
Augé takes French fries off de Rosnay’s plate without asking and recalls throwing him a 40th birthday party in the French countryside last summer, an event for which they bought out a small hotel and had their friends who run the kitchen roast several pigs. De Rosnay’s daughter is starting to understand what her dad does for work. When she heard him playing a demo of “One Night/All Night” on his phone, she told him it was “surprisingly good, for something you made.”
Xavier de Rosnay, left, and Gaspard Augé of Justice photographed on March 13, 2024 in Austin, Texas.
Joel Barhamand
Twenty years into their career, de Rosnay and Augé discuss their relationship in couples therapy terms (outside of Justice, both are unmarried). The secret of their success, de Rosnay says, is “patience, good communication. We’re in a band together; we are friends on a very intimate level. It’s likely that there’s not a lot of our romantic partners who can claim to know us better than we know each other.”
They still seriously consider a backup plan if things don’t ultimately work out in music. Augé says many of their musician friends are no longer pursuing careers in the industry, given its volatility; de Rosnay is confident they could still get work as graphic designers. But he also admits that should they follow that path, it’s “not going to be as cool as being in Justice.”
And for the time being — regardless of who they think their audience is or is not — they’ve got millions of prospective new listeners and a devoted global fan base that considers them actual rock stars.
“Please don’t break the news,” de Rosnay says with a smile, “that we are not.”
On the scale of regular to rock star, being stuck in traffic leans hard into the mundane. And yet on a humid March afternoon in Texas, this is where I find Gaspard Augé and Xavier de Rosnay — the French electronic music legends better known as Justice. Augé (44, bearded, tall, taciturn) is in the […]
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The newest episode of the acclaimed I Got Questions series features the Juice Crew’s Big Daddy Kane and Wu-Tang Clan’s Ghostface Killah reflecting on Hip-Hop culture and their careers.
The streets have been asking for it, so it’s only right that as Hip-Hop is enjoying 50 years of life as a culture, the pivotal interview series I Got Questions makes its return with two of the greatest MCs in Hip-Hop—Big Daddy Kane and Ghostface Killah.
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The two artists sit across from each other in a plush lounge setting, with Ghostface reminiscing on the first time he ever heard Big Daddy Kane rhyme while hustling in the projects in his Stapleton neighborhood of Staten Island. “That’s what really got me into Hip-Hop, and ink and putting the pen down,” he said. For Big Daddy Kane, he recounted his first time meeting Ghostface at their show in Newark, New Jersey, and how they immediately got into a cipher. “It was me, you, Scoob Lover, RZA, and Raekwon and Shyheim,” he said. He even revealed how the iconic “Where Brooklyn At?” moment from The Notorious B.I.G. took place at one of his shows.
As the two sip wine, Big Daddy Kane reveals that he started as a DJ but a robbery at his grandmother’s home forced him to pivot to rhyming. “Dude that stole those turntables did me a big favor ‘cause I sucked at DJ’ing,” the legend said with a laugh. The conversation went deeper, as Ghostface revealed that performing his classic track with Mary J. Blige from Ironman, “All That I Got Is You” is one that he’s reluctant to perform. “It just gets me sad. I don’t really perform that because it brings me back to a place where we was going through it. That record brings pain,” he remarked.
The two artists also spoke about the relationships with other older and newer artists in rap, and how they want to be perceived by the public. “Now there’s a disconnect,” Big Daddy Kane said, “That’s what we need to bring back so we can talk to the young rappers of today and give them the game. The same way it was given to me. The same way it was given to you.”
Ghostface also spoke about how some rappers need to be more embracing of their fans by signing autographs and greeting them on the street. “I’m an MC first, but I’m grateful though, ‘cause Kane we could’ve been somewhere else,” said Tony Starks.
Check out the entire I Got Questions episode with Big Daddy Kane and Ghostface Killah above.
In the vibrant world of music, there are those who follow trends, and then there are those who carve their own path. Lila Iké belongs firmly to the latter category. Born and raised in Jamaica, her journey into music began at a young age, influenced by the soul-stirring melodies that filled her childhood home. “My mom, she’s a huge fan of music,” Iké recalls. “Growing up, my house always had music playing, different genres. It started from me just trying to connect with my mother.”
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As she grew older, her passion for music deepened, fueled by a desire to express herself authentically. Moving to Kingston provided her with the freedom to explore her musical identity further. “The breakthrough moment for me was probably moving to Kingston and doing it out of just the freedom that I had,” she reflects. “When I got to Kingston, I realized that it was just an open space… The more I did it, the more people were like, ‘Yo, this is really cool.’”
Ike’s music reflects her Jamaican roots, infused with a modern flair that sets her apart. “I try to be myself and say exactly how I feel,” she explains. “I have favorite singers and rappers… But I try not to over emulate anybody. So, for me, it’s just being yourself and honing my sound as I go along.”
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Her songs carry empowering messages, addressing social issues, and resonating deeply with listeners. “Music for my household was a huge, comforting thing,” Iké shares. “I watched her [my mother] come alive when she listened to music… For me, it was very important… that if it’s not having people react like this, then it doesn’t make any sense.”
In her creative process, the roots singer prioritizes authenticity and sincerity. “I try to not force myself to create,” she says. “Sometimes being an artist… so much is expected of you… But for me, it’s about ensuring that I really have something that, in my heart, I’m doing this because I want someone else to hear this.”
Collaborations have become an integral part of her emerging journey, allowing her to expand her horizons and connect with artists from diverse backgrounds. “Collaborations open up your sound to different markets and different people,” she emphasizes. “It’s networking.”
One of the most exciting collaborations in Lila’s career is her recent partnership with Afrobeat sensation Davido. “This is my very first time doing anything in the Afrobeat market,” she enthuses. “It’s something that I’ve actually been working towards getting into… Africa is so big, and their market is so beautiful… It’s doors opening everywhere.”
As she looks ahead to the future, the exciting singer envisions a year filled with music, growth, and new experiences. “2024 is a blessed year,” she declares with confidence. With her unwavering dedication to authenticity and her willingness to embrace new challenges, there’s no doubt that Lila Iké’s star will continue to rise, illuminating the world with her unique blend of reggae and soul.
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Exclusively for Billboard and Honda Stage, Afrobeats sensation Davido and soulful Roots crooner Lila Iké teamed up for an electrifying original track titled “Flex My Soul.” Blending Davido’s style, Afrobeats’ infectious rhythms and Iké’s soul-stirring melodies, the song promises to move audiences with its magnetic energy and uplifting vibe. Explore Explore See latest videos, charts […]
From his early years surrounded by the rhythms of entertainment to becoming one of the biggest names in Afrobeats, Davido‘s journey is nothing short of inspirational. Born David Adedeji Adeleke, Davido’s passion for music was ignited during his teenage years, a time when he found solace in the melodies and beats that filled his surroundings.
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Davido’s journey began with a love for entertainment, fostered by his upbringing in an environment rich with music and celebrations. Despite initially envisioning himself as a producer, his destiny as an artist unfolded gradually. Inspired by the desire to be a triple threat—engineer, producer, and songwriter—Davido aimed to establish his own label, following in the footsteps of his musical influences like Don Jazzy.
However, fate had different plans. Encouraged by his cousins, Davido took a leap of faith into the spotlight, transitioning from behind-the-scenes producer to an emerging artist. His move back to Nigeria from Atlanta marked the turning point, propelling him into a full-time music career that would soon capture the hearts of millions.
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Davido’s rise to stardom wasn’t overnight; it was a culmination of perseverance, talent, and an unwavering belief in the power of Afrobeats, globally. Reflecting on his journey, Davido emphasizes the importance of incremental breakthroughs and the relentless pursuit of success at every stage.
As Afrobeats gained global prominence, Davido played a pivotal role in its expansion, leveraging his roots and experiences to bridge cultures through music. He recognized early on the universal appeal of Afrobeats, advocating for its recognition on international platforms and paving the way for its widespread acceptance.
Collaboration lies at the heart of Davido’s artistic vision, serving as a catalyst for innovation and cross-cultural exchange. Whether working with established icons or emerging talents, Davido approaches each collaboration with a spirit of mutual respect and creative exploration.
Beyond personal success, Davido is committed to nurturing the next generation of artists, ensuring they receive guidance and support to navigate the complexities of the music industry. He sees collaboration not only as a means of artistic expression but also as a tool for empowerment and legacy building.
Davido’s journey from humble beginnings to global acclaim embodies the transformative power of music. Through his unwavering passion, dedication to authenticity, and commitment to collaboration, Davido continues to shape the landscape of Afrobeats music while inspiring a new generation of artists to follow their dreams. As he continues to evolve as an artist and a cultural ambassador, Davido’s influence on the world of music remains boundless, leaving an indelible mark on the global stage.
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HipHopWired got the exclusive opportunity to talk with the filmmakers behind the highly anticipated Hulu documentary, Freaknik: The Wildest Story Never Told.
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For those in the know, Freaknik was not just a party that gathered nearly every Black person down in Atlanta, Georgia, every spring, but it was a veritable cultural moment. When word broke late last year that there would be a documentary about Freaknik, many immediately wondered if it would focus only on the wildness that came to be associated with the event.
But in Freaknik: The Wildest Story Never Told, we get a clear-eyed and compelling account of Freaknik in all of its aspects thanks to testimony from numerous people including Jermaine Dupri and Luther “Uncle Luke Campbell” (who are executive producers), Lil Jon, 21 Savage and more.
HipHopWired got the chance to talk with producers Jay Allen, Nikki Byles and executive producer Terry “TR” Ross about their experiences in making this documentary and their perspective on Freaknik as it makes its premiere on Hulu March 21.
HipHopWired: How did this documentary project get onto your radar, and how were you all involved?
Jay Allen: So Nikki and I were a few years younger, and we didn’t get to attend Freaknik. But we’ve always heard the stories of Freaknik from family, cousins and friends. Because we live in Atlanta, we always talk about what it would have been like to be there. And then we realized that we wanted to really tell the story. So she and I put together a pitch deck. We put together a sizzle [reel], we got all that stuff together. And then we were trying to figure out what the next steps were. The first thing that Nikki did was, she got on the phone and got Uncle Luke involved.
Nikki Byles: I just happened to reach out to someone and said, “Hey, I need Luke and please let me talk to him.” And so based on that, we ended up telling him what we wanted, and he ended up flying to Atlanta to meet with us. And after we went over everything, he was like, “Yep, I’m on board. Let’s get it.” Then, we spoke with Terry, he added JD [Jermaine Dupri]. Because you definitely need both. And he looked for the ambassador of Freaknik. And you need JD for the music.
Terry “TR” Ross: Well, not only that, but you need JD because he’s one of the most pivotal people in Atlanta right now. So we needed him for that too, not just for the music. I mean, they call him the “mayor of Atlanta.”
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Jay: Terry helped us fill in some of the gaps. So we went to LA, sat down in the studio with Terry, and just talked to him about what our vision was. And we told him we had Luke and this is what we’re trying to do. And from then, Terry jumped in and really helped us grow this thing, and also that we could start to take it to market.
Terry: So, basically they brought it to me. And I was extremely interested in it. I thought it was compelling. Because first and foremost, that was the reason why I moved to Atlanta, it was because of Freaknik. I had (Mayor) Kasim Reed – whom I went to Howard with in D.C., and I was from D.C. – Kasim Reed, he’s an Atlanta native. And he said, “You guys need to come to Atlanta for this thing called Freaknik.”
And we’d never heard of it, so we decided to go to Atlanta, and we put on this huge concert for Freaknik. And after that, it was just like, “Yo, I want to live here. I want to move here.” And so we decided to move there. This has come full circle because this is my first film project. Freaknik being the reason I moved to Atlanta, and Freaknik being the first film project I did was really amazing.
When Nikki and Jay brought it to me, I went, “This is something that needs to be told, because the story had never been told the right way.” I said that we need to get the people that have been in Atlanta that’s going to make the documentary where people are going to be authentic and really want to get into it. So me, Nikki and Jay, we met with JD, we met him at a Starbucks.
Jay: I want to highlight how we met him at the Starbucks. We met him outside of a Starbucks where Nikki sat on the ground and typed everything. Me and Terry pummeled him with questions, and it was in the middle of COVID and JD had like four masks on. (Laughs) All this happened in the middle of Atlanta in the middle of COVID.
Terry: Then we decided it would be best to, you know, get some of the tastemakers in Atlanta and start interviewing them. Who did we interview first, Chaka (Zulu)?
Jay: The first was Chaka after JD?
Nikki: Yeah, because we had to get them all in while TR was there.
Jay: Yeah, I think we had Kasim, Too Short, Kenny Burns –
Nikki: For some reason, I remember speaking to Mannie Fresh. (Laughs)
Jay: There were many people in there, yeah. (Laughs)
Terry: KP and Shanti Das, who was very instrumental in breaking OutKast because they broke in Atlanta during Freaknik. She was at LaFace [Records]. Rico Wade of Dungeon Family & Organized Noise.
Jay: You’re the only one getting this story. No one else has asked this, so just know this is an exclusive right here. (Laughs)
HipHopWired: So in terms of interviews and the experience of getting testimonials from folks that attended and those who were in opposition – what was that experience like talking to everyone and getting their recollections?
Jay: Before or after we started filming? Because that’s two different sets.
HipHopWired: After, because as you said with the teaser, there were those that were kind of wondering “Well, what’s going on? What is this going to be?”
Jay: I think when Terry talks about this – we weren’t passing out checks for people to be a part of this. Terry was really picking up the phone. Nikki was really picking up the phone. And these people were coming to sit and talk and tell us their Freaknik stories and help us piece it together. For the love. For the love of the people that have a relationship to it. And that’s how we were able to make the story come together.
Terry: Everybody’s story was different, especially Too Short’s, Lil Jon’s, and of course, JD. Because JD wasn’t even old enough to attend Freaknik, so he would just hang outside in the parking lot and just pass out his tapes. And that’s pretty much how Shanti said they broke OutKast, because they had these tapes that they were passing out, and then people were playing them in their cars. Because there was nowhere to go, you couldn’t move. (Laughs) So they would pop the tape in and they were just riding up and down the street and people were bumping OutKast.
Jay: And these are people that are legends now, like Shanti. Yeah, she’s one of the biggest women in music entertainment. Kasim Reed was just an early law student then, and Kasim is literally explaining to us how the government was working back then. One thing that didn’t make it to the documentary that was super interesting is how important Southwest Atlanta was to all of this coming together. And it was a really incredible story. Because Shanti, Kasim – there’s a group of mayors that all come from Southwest Atlanta. And they really just broke down the story. So you’re literally seeing the people that are the biggest leaders in their industries—from music to executives to politics—really be at the forefront of what Freaknik was and what it became.
HipHopWired: Building off of that, how happy are you guys with the reception that you’ve gotten so far with this documentary, showing such a cultural moment for Atlanta and the South overall?
Terry: I always say this: Atlanta wouldn’t be Atlanta without Freaknik. It would not be the same. Freaknik made Atlanta what it is today. Hands down, no doubt. Because people came from all over the country to Atlanta and then stayed. So you started getting a bunch of Black people from different parts of the country that came down and started having their own record labels. We built our record label out of Atlanta, we had a record label called Noontime.
We had Jazze Pha, Brian Michael Cox, Ciara and Latoya Luckett. All of these people came from us. And then you had the LaFace standard, and you had So So Def, and then you had Dallas Austin. And then you had the Dungeon Family. Freaknik started flourishing because of all of the different people that were coming into Atlanta and getting that culture because that was a whole different culture down there than any other city.
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HipHopWired: If there is one – you can narrow it down to one – what was your all-time favorite moment making this film?
Nikki: My favorite moment, all-time favorite was Clay Evans. Getting his interview and talking to him about his time at Freaknik. I wish we could have just shown his whole interview. How he acted; y’all he acted so crazy that day of filming. He wouldn’t let anybody talk to him. I was the only one allowed to talk to him. Nobody else can look him in the face. Everybody refers to him in the third person. (Laughs) Yeah, he sent me a two-page rider and let me know that he wanted oysters, but he’s the only one that does the shucking. I provided nothing. I gave him juice. And you have a good day.
Terry: We can’t leave out a very important partner. And that’s Alex Avant who was Clarence Avant’s son. I’m good friends with him. Alex was instrumental in bringing Hulu to the table. So, Alex saw the vision as well.
Jay: And to piggyback on what TR said, my favorite moment of the film is not even a film. What people don’t know is with me, Nikki and TR, other people are in the mix. For me, Nikki and TR are on the frontlines of this. And people know what we went through just putting together materials to pitch, to talk to people to get them convinced, to tap into his entire network, TR tapping into his entire network. And to see the big billboards in LA and New York and everywhere else off the idea that we were literally sitting with, like looking at each other like, “Are we crazy? Is this is a good idea?”
We’re at South by Southwest and we all look at the crowd like, “Oh, we did it.” That’s the moment for me that I was just like…you can’t let people tell you that you’re crazy. We did get rejection letters from people, people who told us that this wasn’t relevant and nobody cared about it. So to have a billboard in Times Square in the middle of a promotion that broke the internet? It just makes me appreciate these people on this call. I know we believe in ourselves and we kept pushing from day one. Never, never hesitated. And we should give some love to Tamara Knetchel. Tam connected us, she’s an unsung hero.
Source: Hulu / hulu
Nearly three years ago, RAYE tweeted that her label situation left her not “wanting to get out of bed and feeling so alone.” Polydor, to which she signed in 2014, had blocked her from releasing any music unless her singles reached a certain level of commercial success. Last week (Mar. 2), the “Escapism” singer woke up, got out of bed, and took home six of her seven record-breaking nominations at the 2024 Brit Awards – and she did it all independently.
It’s now the Monday after the Brit Awards and RAYE is “recovering from a two-day hangover,” she tells Billboard over Google Meet. The acclaimed singer-songwriter understandably spent the weekend celebrating her six wins, including best new artist, best R&B act, songwriter of the year, song of the year (“Escapism,” with 070 Shake), artist of the year, and album of the year (My 21st Century Blues), which she cites as the victory that meant the most to her. “I was sobbing like a child!” she recounts.
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J. Erving, founder of Human Re Sources, the distribution company that helped usher RAYE into her current era of global pop stardom, lounges on a giant teddy bear chair behind her. It’s quite the picturesque scene for a Google Meets window. That teddy bear – and it truly is giant – was a gift from DJ Cuppy, a Nigerian DJ and producer, who sent it to RAYE following her split from Polydor. “When we were finishing vocals and stuff [for the album], I was on that teddy bear!” says RAYE.
The album in question is, of course, My 21st Century Blues, an evocative tour de force of fearless songwriting and bombastic vocal performances. Over an expansive sonic palette that includes big band jazz, boom bap, gospel, dance and R&B, RAYE works her way through the trauma of sexual assault, body dysmorphia, drug abuse, her faith journey and general existentialism. It’s a truly kaleidoscopic record that stands as the stark antithesis to the messaging RAYE received from her old label – and to other labels that tried to strip her of her idiosyncratic artistic vision.
After splitting with Polydor in July 2021, RAYE signed with Human Re Sources, a subsidiary of The Orchard, a music and entertainment company with a focus on distribution. From there she and “the most supportive, beautiful team” properly launched a campaign for her debut LP that took her all the way to her historic night at the Brits. At the ceremony, RAYE performed a show-stealing medley of songs, including an orchestral rendition of “Prada” (a viral Cassö-produced rework of her 2021 D-Block Europe collaboration “Ferrari Horses”), U.K. chart-topper “Escapism” and the harrowing “Ice Cream Man,” a track that details her sexual assault at the hands of a music producer.
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A triumphant full-circle moment, that medley was something of a nirvana moment for RAYE — despite a truncated rehearsal period, given that she had just wrapped a tour just days before the ceremony. “As soon as I sat on that piano, the was the first time the whole night I was actually at peace,” she says. “I’m so at home onstage… I just feel like this is where I’m meant to be.”
To feel at home on the Brit Awards stage, however, RAYE first had to find a home in a new partner on her journey as a newly independent artist. “RAYE’s been the captain of the ship,” explains Erving. “The first time I heard this album was exactly the album that was put out. Our job was to get out of RAYE’s way and just be as supportive as we could. We can be very nimble and move quickly when something catches a spark, but there is no blueprint for what RAYE’s doing right now.”
This artist-forward approach to building not just a successful album era, but also a devoted fan base and solidified career, is what allowed RAYE to sustain the momentum of “Escapism” for an entire calendar year. After gaining traction on TikTok in late 2022, “Escapism” became the first U.K. No. 1 song for both her and 070 Shake by the following January. My 21st Century Blues arrived in its totality the next month (Feb. 3, 2023), reaching No. 2 on the U.K. albums chart. It’s fitting that “Escapism” was the impetus behind RAYE’s incredible growth over the past few years; the nocturnal electro-pop/hip-hop hybrid thrilled audiences with its unflinching look at escaping reality and heartbreak through meaningless sex, partying and drugs – exactly the kind of RAYE record that traditional record labels were wary of.
“Literally not one other place that we went to and played the music were okay with the songs as they were,” explains RAYE. “The running consensus was, ‘Oh, we like RAYE, but she would need to go again.’ There was all this talk of, ‘We want to decide, we want to control, we want to A&R,’ and I’ve now got to a place where I’m finally independent and don’t have to hand it all away again. That’s not happening.”
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At Human Re Sources, Erving helped assemble a team and strategy for RAYE and My 21st Century Blues that was as reactive as it was laissez-faire. “This is soul food: It takes a little bit longer to cook and it’s way more satisfying than microwave food,” posits Erving. “[These are] revelations that continue to happen every day, where people are understanding that RAYE is bigger than any one particular song. The amount of shows and support shows and intimate rooms she’s done, building a real audience and a real fanbase. All that matters is [drawing in] people who listen and listen properly.”
Instead of trying to plan or predict what songs would be the right ones to throw their full promotional strength behind, RAYE and her team simply let the music connect with listeners and responded to what they were responding to. For example, after performing “Prada” on piano while playing some shows in the U.S., RAYE released an official acoustic version of the song on streaming platforms, which, in turn, spawned its own TikTok trend. “Prada” eventually peaked at No. 2 in the U.K. and at No. 5 on Billboard’s Hot Dance/Electronic Songs chart.
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Other key promotional moves to maintain RAYE’s momentum included a near-constant flow of eye-popping music videos and rousing live performance clips, and a year packed with shows, including a headlining trek in support of Blues and opening slots on tours from SZA, Kali Uchis and Lewis Capaldi. Most recently, RAYE launched My 21st Century Symphony (Sept. 26, 2023), a live concert filmed at London’s Royal Albert Hall alongside the Heritage Orchestra and the Flames Collective (which aired on BBC and spawned an accompanying live album).
“The only thing that we were able to plan or have any control over was the art,” says RAYE of her approach to promotion. “We are in a weird, beautiful time in which you can’t plan [what’s] going to be ‘the big one.’ I’ve been doing shows, doing support gigs, doing promo, doing the social stuff. At the end of the day, give the art as best as a chance as possible at reaching the most ears.”
At Human Re Sources, RAYE found a partner with the same outlook in Erving. Having founded a company that helped launch the carers of marquee independent artists like Brent Faiyaz and Pink Sweat$, Erving was able to foster something more than just a distribution company.
“When we met with J, the one thing that was different to everyone else was that he actually liked the music. He said ‘I believe in you,’” recalls RAYE. “[Human Re Sources] is the only option that makes sense. This is the only place where I don’t have to worry about someone else trying to lead me or steer me or tell me what to do.”
In addition to feeling heard and respected as a person, artist, and visionary at Human Re Sources, RAYE also secured herself a deal from which she could see legitimate financial returns from hit records – something that has unfairly been a privilege for most artists instead of a right. With an increasing number of artists deciding to sell the rights to their music, RAYE’s success with her Human Re Sources partnership signals a different path forward for artists. According to Erving, RAYE now has a catalog that she will own and continue to make money from in perpetuity. It’s a material addition to the legacy she showcased at the Brits when she brought her grandmother, Agatha Dawson-Amoah, onstage with her to accept her awards.
“Making actual money from your records! Do you know how nice that is?” RAYE exclaims. “We’re making money from our songs, not just the publishing or the writing side, actual hard sales. That’s been such a rewarding thing to see because that’s how it should be.”
With six Brits to her name now, RAYE has her sights set on the next phase of her career as a globe-conquering independent artist. She’s taken the next two weeks off to “take some time to process all that we’ve worked hard for” and to prepare to start writing again and “get in [her] producer bag.” She has a few performances coming up, including Saturday Night Live (Apr. 6), Coachella (Apr. 13 and 20) and Leeds Festival (Aug. 25), so she’s “just gonna keep going” because, after all, it’s all about momentum.
But if there’s any legacy RAYE hopes her historic Brit Awards night leaves, it’s that she – and all artists – should put being proud of their art over any outside achievements.
“I’m an artist who is obsessed with her music and her art,” she says. “If I’d been fortunate enough to have a night like I did at the Brits but not feel the way I did about my art, then what am I doing it for? Whether I had a night like that at the Brits and the two years that we did or we didn’t, I’d still feel the same about my Music. That’s what matters.”
On June 29, 2012, Nick Miller regained consciousness in a Boulder, Colo., hospital room. The day before, he’d overdosed on heroin, the final act of a 10-day drug binge. Coming to, he saw his mother and the sadness in her eyes. He was 21 years old and had been sober for 15 months after time in rehab and years of opiate addiction. He’d been doing so well.
But his mom had known something was off after her son had gone quiet over text and phone. She called a friend of his, insisting they go check on him while she packed a bag and booked the next flight to Denver. The friend found Miller unresponsive, thrust naloxone — the opioid overdose reversal medication — up his nose and dialed 911. If not for his mom’s sense that something was wrong, it’s unlikely that I’d be here in Miller’s house on this chilly February afternoon in Los Angeles to talk with him about his incredible success as electronic producer Illenium. It’s unlikely he’d be here at all.
Sitting in the cave-like home studio within his large and otherwise light-filled house, Miller, 33, dotes on his dogs — the regal Belgian Malinois Grace and a small but fierce blonde dachshund whose dedicated Instagram account has 23,000 followers and for whom the house’s Wi-Fi network, “Palace du Peanut,” is named — holding them in arms covered in sacred geometry and Eye of Sauron tattoos. He makes jokes and direct eye contact, speaks in ski-bum parlance (“fire,” “sick,” “chillin’ ”), endearingly giggles and generally comes off as a person worth rooting for.
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I ask Miller what he’d say to that hospital room version of himself, given everything that has happened since. His answer is immediate: “There’s no way I would have even believed the possibilities.”
Illenium plays Billboard Presents THE STAGE at SXSW on March 16. Get your tickets here.
As Illenium, Miller is one of the most successful electronic acts of the last half-decade, a dance music star in the fireworks and confetti tradition, but with a harder and more rock-oriented sound and sensibility than straightforward main-stage EDM. In a genre known more for talent-heavy festival bills than solo-show hard ticket sales, he’s one of only a handful of artists, like ODESZA and Kaskade, playing venues as massive as stadiums and arenas.
Still, it’s possible you’ve never heard of him. Illenium hasn’t yet had a solo crossover hit (“Takeaway,” his 2019 collaboration with The Chainsmokers and Lennon Stella, hit No. 69 on the Billboard Hot 100 and remains his highest-ranking single on the chart), and unlike some world-famous DJs, he doesn’t frequent fashion shows, post shirtless selfies or chase fame.
He calls himself “very much a homebody,” one who most enjoys staying in and working on music, playing video games and hanging out with his dogs and his wife, Lara. The two met at a festival and married last September in Aspen, Colo., not too far from their primary residence, a 23,000-square-foot estate in the Denver suburb of Cherry Hills. Miller says he only bought the L.A. house in 2021 because “I was spending so much money on hotels and studio spaces here that it made more financial sense.” He has left twice in the last six days, once for a meeting and the other time to play the second of his back-to-back headlining shows at SoFi Stadium.
Louis Vuitton shirt and Askyurself sweater.
Daniel Prakopcyk
These Trilogy performances — so named because they feature three separate Illenium sets over five hours — are the current crown jewel of the Illenium empire. Prior to the Feb. 2 and 3 shows in L.A. (where his team says fans bought $2 million in merchandise alone), last June’s Trilogy concert at Denver’s Mile High stadium grossed $3.9 million and sold 47,000 tickets. It happened amid a 26-date North American tour that sold 191,000 tickets and grossed $15.7 million, according to Billboard Boxscore. His fourth studio album, 2021’s Fallen Embers, earned a Grammy Award nomination for best dance/electronic album, an accomplishment that came months after the debut Trilogy show at Las Vegas’ Allegiant Stadium helped break the pandemic’s pause on live music.
With nearly 33,000 attendees, the July 3, 2021, performance, according to Boxscore, broke the record for the biggest dance music event for a single headliner in U.S. history. At the end of it, Miller told the roaring crowd that for him Trilogy represents “my transition from a f–king sh–ty life. That was my past. So it’s just f–king crazy, this. What the f–k? This is a f–king football stadium.”
Performing from a cryo-spitting tower of LEDs on the 50-yard line was not on Miller’s radar when he started releasing music in 2014. His work helped form the then-emerging future bass subgenre, which, like the bass music that influenced it, is huge and often heavy but also simultaneously soft — like getting hit in the head with a two-by-four wrapped in velvet. Future bass also incorporates more traditional verse/chorus song structures than much of the wilder bass made by Illenium’s influences and peers — Zeds Dead, Excision, SLANDER, Dabin, Said the Sky, Space Laces — and his work also heavily integrates rock, metal, indie and pop sounds. The Illenium oeuvre, developed over his five studio albums, is cinematic, anthemic, often heavy and typically lyrically personal music that mulls deeper themes — love, heartbreak, rage — than standard dance refrains about putting your f–king hands up.
“I’m sensitive,” Miller says, and “for sure” an emotional person. For him, writing music is a form of escape, release and healing, and he thinks listeners can feel the depths he’s pulling from: “A fan who’s going through something — when they listen to something personal, it just bonds in a different way.”
Des Pierrot vest, Jack John Jr. pants, Louis Vuitton shoes.
Daniel Prakopcyk
This bond is a key reason why fans not only love Illenium’s music, but often have devotional relationships with it. The audiences at his shows party and headbang — but there’s also a lot more crying at an Illenium concert than at most electronic sets.
His fusion of bass with traditional song structures has also fueled his broad appeal. UTA’s Guy Oldaker, his longtime agent, came up in the bass scene of Colorado — the genre’s spiritual U.S. home and a huge dance hub, with Denver effectively tied with Miami as the United States’ highest-indexing major market for electronic music streaming, according to Luminate. But Oldaker hadn’t figured out how to cross these artists over into major festivals and Las Vegas residencies, where he says crowds usually want “easily accessible pop music.”
When a promoter sent Oldaker demos by a local producer named Illenium in 2014, “I went, ‘Holy crap, this is exactly what I think will work with this audience in Vegas,’ ” Oldaker recalls. “I know very well how to build an artist in the scene where I’ve built everything else. I knew if I could connect the dots, we’d have a winner.”
Now, after the pandemic deflated his team’s plans for international expansion, Illenium is poised for the kind of global ubiquity Oldaker has long believed he could achieve — that is, if that’s even what he wants. “I go back-and-forth on if I’d rather be a famous world star DJ,” Miller says bluntly, “or just like, kind of be chillin’.”
When Oldaker first met him, Miller was sober — and also deep in the bass scene. He handed out show flyers as an intern for local promoter Global Dance, wrote for electronic music blogs, frequented Red Rocks Amphitheatre in Morrison and Aspen’s Belly Up Tavern and fell in love with the music and community he had found. He’d returned to rehab following his overdose and, afterward, started teaching himself music: playing piano, watching YouTube tutorials on music theory and making “like, ‘Wonderwall’ remixes and random crap, just to figure it out.”
Soon, the music blog dubstep.net voted one of his tracks the No. 1 song of the moment. “I was like, ‘Let’s f–king go,’ ” he recalls. He’d also started performing around Denver and in 2015 signed with Oldaker (then at Madison House Presents), who sent Illenium (his name references Star Wars’ Millenium Falcon) on the road as a support act for artists like Big Gigantic and Minnesota. After a show at the 500-capacity George’s Majestic Lounge in Fayetteville, Ark., attendees bought out the venue for a second night so Illenium could play again. “And that sold out,” Oldaker says. “These were small-market shows by someone no one had ever heard of who was getting 250 bucks to open for another artist, and all of a sudden he’s blowing out some room in Arkansas.”
Miller and his team — which by this time included manager Ha Hau (also the founder of Global Dance) and touring manager Sean Flynn, whom he’d met in recovery — started putting up headline shows at smaller clubs. They decided he needed a signature “thing” and that it would be, Oldaker says, “putting so much production into these rooms that people walked out like, ‘I don’t know what I just saw.’ ”
For a 2015 set at Denver’s 650-capacity Bluebird Theater, Miller spent $10,000 on a custom metal phoenix, a symbol of his rise from addiction that has also appeared on his album covers and on the Illenium jerseys that are the de facto fan uniform at his shows. “On most of my tours, I’ve gone as far as I could with production by breaking even, or just slightly above,” he says. Flynn declines to give an exact price tag for Trilogy’s production, but says the shows are “really expensive.” They weren’t sure if they’d even turn a profit with the SoFi sets, but then “the second show crushed,” Miller says. “So we were chillin’.”
Daniel Prakopcyk
Streams, ticket sales and festival billings grew steadily as his profile rose, and his second album, 2017’s Awake, reached No. 106 on the Billboard 200. But Miller felt a disconnect. Fans didn’t know about the personal experiences making his songs so emotionally intense, a chasm that felt especially wide when they told him his music had helped them through hard times, like dealing with addiction.
“I’ve been wanting to share something super personal with you for a while,” Miller wrote in a letter posted to X (then Twitter) in August 2018, revealing his struggles with opiates and his overdose. “I was trapped in it, had no passion, no direction and truly hated myself… I’m just sharing my story and relating because music saved my life too.” The news came in tandem with the release of “Take You Down,” a huge, hypnotic song he wrote about his mother. “I couldn’t see that when I went to hell,” vocalist Tim James sings, “I was taking you with me.”
“Watching that relationship get torn by the sh-t you keep doing — at first, it’s like, ‘Why are you on me so much, I’m not even that bad,’ ” Miller reflects now. “Then it goes into ‘OK, I can’t stop’ and then it goes into, like, “F–k everyone. I can’t live without it.’ And then you’re just breaking down.”
Making this information public initially made him nervous “because I didn’t want to come off preachy. I love rave culture and people enjoying themselves and don’t want to be the person that’s like” — he shifts to a nerdy tone — “ ‘You guys are really f–king your lives up.’ ” But six years later, he thinks his fans appreciate knowing, “given all the music that has come out of it and that I did all of this sober.”
LEMAIRE jacket and Louis Vuitton shirt, pants and shoes.
Daniel Prakopcyk
In a realm not known for temperance, Miller says that Kaskade — one of the few sober dance artists — has been a role model who has shown him “you can do this and not be a party animal, because it’s hard. You see how insane people go and wonder if you’ll be accepted if you’re not partaking.”
But Miller is also uniquely suited to talk to fans about drugs. Last year, he partnered with L.A.-based nonprofit End Overdose, which distributes free naloxone and fentanyl test strips, provides training on how to respond to overdoses and is a partner of major dance music promoter Insomniac Events. He raised $50,000 for the organization through a fan donation matching campaign, became a certified End Overdose trainer, gave tutorials on administering naloxone on Instagram Live, provided trainings at stops on his last tour and gave contest winners an in-person demonstration at the Denver Trilogy show. Over 2,000 doses of naloxone have been distributed across these events; last September, one was used to resuscitate someone at a concert (not Illenium’s) in Kansas City, Mo. “We’ve literally saved lives together,” End Overdose communications officer Mike Giegerich says. “It’s beyond meaningful.”
Meanwhile, Miller has rather cleverly figured out a healthy (and productive) way to satisfy his own addictive impulses. “To have five hours to shape the night and do it all?” he says of the Trilogy shows. “That’s like, my psycho drug addictness. That sounds very fulfilling and, like, a sweet high for me.”
The five-hour Trilogy shows have also given Miller time to explore the direction he’ll pursue next. After his rock- and metal-focused 2023-self-titled album, which featured artists like Travis Barker and Avril Lavigne, the Trilogy sets inspired him to return to his electronic roots, and he’s working on “a lot” of new music. Collaborations with Tiësto (a Colorado neighbor Miller calls “the f–king man”), REZZ, Seven Lions, Mike Shinoda and others he’s not yet ready to name are forthcoming — not as an album, but as singles to be released throughout 2024.
Outside of scattered festival dates, he’s not touring this year, but Oldaker says, “World domination is where I think we go from here.” Flynn says the team “had a lot of steam” in Europe and Asia before the pandemic, and it’s now positioned to rebuild that momentum. American-style bass music has historically “had a hard time getting good traction” in Europe, Oldaker says, but he fervently believes Illenium could be the one to break it.
Miller’s own feelings are more mixed. He points out that his seven-date European tour last summer hit 2,000- to 3,000-capacity rooms and turned out “fire” crowds in cities like Brussels and Barcelona. He also acknowledges that the more minimal, less headbang-y European scene is “just so different,” Miller continues, “and I never bought into it. I’m not a partier. I like being home, and I don’t play that game of ‘meet this promoter so you can play their festival or club.’ I’m so not that person, and I think that has hurt me a bit in Europe.”
Still, he’d love to bring the full show abroad. He has growing fan bases in Asia (he did his first headlining show in India in February) and Australia, and his team is also eyeing expansion into Africa and Central and South America.
Meanwhile, North American demand hasn’t abated for the artist Oldaker calls “the underground monster you’ve never heard of who all of a sudden blows your mind.” Several stadiums have reached out about hosting a Trilogy show, and fans can see Illenium through September at his residency at the 2,100-capacity Zouk in Las Vegas, a club the team chose for its production capabilities. Having played Vegas since his days as an opener, Miller has learned “the game” of these shows: “taking yourself less seriously, just having fun and not trying to have a musical therapy session in a f–king Vegas club.”
Daniel Prakopcyk
While there are many goals still to reach — a crossover hit (his official remix of Taylor Swift’s “Anti-Hero” toed the line), major mainstream festival headlining slots, movie scores and, Oldaker says, “expanding what he’s doing so people understand he isn’t just a bass producer and can do all these other things” — the imminent strategy is simple: keep building “core events,” Oldaker says, like Trilogy and Illenium’s Ember Shores destination festival in Mexico, which held its second edition in December. “Yes, we want to headline all the major festivals, but we have a great thing going with Trilogy where we can create these incredible experiences for fans to come be a part of,” Oldaker explains. “We’ll continue building it and hope these bigger festivals see the value we’re creating.”
“There is no ceiling to cap the success that he is capable of,” adds Tom Corson, co-chairman/COO of Warner Records, which released Illenium. “Nick is a career artist who can be as big as he wants to be both within dance music and outside of the genre.”
While now in a period of relative downtime, the guy whose lexicon heavily favors “chillin’ ” doesn’t, actually, want to be entirely chill. His Colorado rhythm is to drink coffee, run the dogs, tend to Illenium business — a straightforward model of “merch and music and shows,” he says — then hit his home studio. He’s also remodeling a Denver warehouse into a recording space for himself and other artists, some of whom will likely appear on the label he’s putting together. When he’s really not working, he golfs, snowmobiles or hangs with his parents, sisters, nieces and nephews who, Oldaker says, “are always around him.”
“They’re so happy, full of joy,” Miller says of his family’s take on his achievements. “We have a beautiful life now.”
That family isn’t just his direct relations anymore, but the tens of thousands of screaming fans who love him — not only as an artist, but as a survivor: the kid in the hospital bed who was about to get up and make it all happen.
This story originally appeared in the March 9, 2024, issue of Billboard.