Over the past half decade, JAE5 has helped to usher in a new age of music producers who are as famous as the artists themselves.The UK rap scene has had legendary producers before, like Ruff Sqwad’s Rapid, Sir Spyro, Jammer and Skepta, but JAE5 is part of a new generation who proudly wear their heritage in their music. He’s an east Londoner with Ghanaian roots, and his tunes (like NSG and Tion Wayne’s “Options”, and Dave and Burna Boy’s “Location”) leak African identity while keeping things British.
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It’s JAE5’s work with J Hus that has been era-defining. The producer blessed Hus with his first pop hit, “Lean and Bop”, in 2015, before going on to executive produce his debut album, Common Sense, the following year. Showing that the pair could retain what made them likeable while reaching the mainstream, the garage-tinged feel-good riddim “Did You See” took up space in the British charts for weeks. By spring of 2018, the album was nominated for both BRIT and Mercury Awards – a landmark moment.Since then, JAE has produced on another Hus record (Big Conspiracy – a Number One on the UK albums chart) and landed work with chart-friendly names like Mark Ronson and Rudimental. In 2020 he took home the prize for Producer of the Year at the GRM Awards, and has also been nominated for Best Contemporary Song at the Ivor Novello Awards for J Hus’ “Must Be”.Through all the success, the 28 year-old east Londoner has remained an enigma – a name, rather than the face, behind the records. But with the list of collaborations growing, he’s stepping out into the limelight. “Dimension”, his debut single as a lead artist, is an evolutionary leap forward. Featuring a verse from Skepta and a hook from afropop star Rema, it builds on the warm, melodic sound JAE5 has been known for and leans into his Ghanaian heritage with a video shot in the West African country.
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With a slew of singles in the works, VICE caught up with the super-producer to chat about his upbringing, his work with J Hus and his new music.VICE: You and Hus have done an amazing job of ascending the ranks without being super front facing. You get your work done and it speaks. Was that always the plan?
JAE5: Yes, for me personally it’s always been the plan to be in the background and make the music go as far as possible. It’s obviously changing a bit now, but originally I would have been happy with no one knowing me, and killing it. I guess the best place to start is the beginning. You started producing in Ghana, right?
Yeah.A lot of Black British kids get sent “home” when they’re young, or to a school out of the ends. How come you were sent to Ghana?
Truth be told, my older brother used to get in a lot of trouble in secondary school. I would tag along. We were doing petty shit, and my mum and dad just made a conscious decision to send us back to Africa to learn some respect. Learn some culture. That’s where it started. I can’t remember the years, but I remember being 10 when I went there and staying there until I was 13.Two of your younger brothers are in NSG. Is everyone in your family musically inclined?
To a certain degree. Not everybody takes it as serious or does as much, but all of us are musically good at something – whether it’s an instrument or rapping or singing.
JAE5: Yes, for me personally it’s always been the plan to be in the background and make the music go as far as possible. It’s obviously changing a bit now, but originally I would have been happy with no one knowing me, and killing it. I guess the best place to start is the beginning. You started producing in Ghana, right?
Yeah.A lot of Black British kids get sent “home” when they’re young, or to a school out of the ends. How come you were sent to Ghana?
Truth be told, my older brother used to get in a lot of trouble in secondary school. I would tag along. We were doing petty shit, and my mum and dad just made a conscious decision to send us back to Africa to learn some respect. Learn some culture. That’s where it started. I can’t remember the years, but I remember being 10 when I went there and staying there until I was 13.Two of your younger brothers are in NSG. Is everyone in your family musically inclined?
To a certain degree. Not everybody takes it as serious or does as much, but all of us are musically good at something – whether it’s an instrument or rapping or singing.
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Did this come from your parents?
I don’t think it had anything to do with my parents. My parents aren’t musical – they’re not DJs. The first thing that probably influenced me was my older brother splicing grime songs from the radio. That’s when I first started to like music and enjoy music. I’d take a Walkman and a cassette and listen to it. How did you start producing?
It was on Fruity Loops, but it was the demo version, so you couldn’t save. You’d spend all day making a beat, and if it wasn’t finished you’d have to leave the computer on and come back the next day. I started by copying what I could hear. They didn’t have a lot of grime music out in Ghana, and I didn’t have an internet connection like that. I was trying to recreate what I could remember of grime, but everything I had around me was Timbaland, Celine Dion, afrobeats. There was bare other stuff I could hear, so I was always recreating an interpretation of what I could remember grime being.One of the sounds I love most in grime came from Ruff Sqwad. Grime takes influence from Caribbean music, and then Ruff Sqwad – they’re African. Did heritage ever play a part in how you connected to the music in the very beginning?
Not really, to be honest. I didn’t get to choose what grime I heard. If “Pow” was in your face – that was the one. If More Fire Crew was in your face – that was the one. Dizzee Rascal. When I was in Ghana, one song would leak through every once in a while. Kano “P’s and Q’s” leaked through – it was the only song they played on the radio stations; it was probably the only grime song I heard that year. So yeah… [laughs]. I didn’t really have a choice in hearing it.
I don’t think it had anything to do with my parents. My parents aren’t musical – they’re not DJs. The first thing that probably influenced me was my older brother splicing grime songs from the radio. That’s when I first started to like music and enjoy music. I’d take a Walkman and a cassette and listen to it. How did you start producing?
It was on Fruity Loops, but it was the demo version, so you couldn’t save. You’d spend all day making a beat, and if it wasn’t finished you’d have to leave the computer on and come back the next day. I started by copying what I could hear. They didn’t have a lot of grime music out in Ghana, and I didn’t have an internet connection like that. I was trying to recreate what I could remember of grime, but everything I had around me was Timbaland, Celine Dion, afrobeats. There was bare other stuff I could hear, so I was always recreating an interpretation of what I could remember grime being.One of the sounds I love most in grime came from Ruff Sqwad. Grime takes influence from Caribbean music, and then Ruff Sqwad – they’re African. Did heritage ever play a part in how you connected to the music in the very beginning?
Not really, to be honest. I didn’t get to choose what grime I heard. If “Pow” was in your face – that was the one. If More Fire Crew was in your face – that was the one. Dizzee Rascal. When I was in Ghana, one song would leak through every once in a while. Kano “P’s and Q’s” leaked through – it was the only song they played on the radio stations; it was probably the only grime song I heard that year. So yeah… [laughs]. I didn’t really have a choice in hearing it.
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Where did the name JAE5 come from?
There’s a film with a robot in it called Johnny Five. We had this studio and everything was broken: the speaker was blown, there was no chair, but I was mad motivated and on my knees and making beats. Someone walked in and was like, “You’re a fucking robot.” Then someone else said “Johnny Five, he’s alive,” and from that day, that’s what they called me. I don’t even like the name [laughs].
There’s a film with a robot in it called Johnny Five. We had this studio and everything was broken: the speaker was blown, there was no chair, but I was mad motivated and on my knees and making beats. Someone walked in and was like, “You’re a fucking robot.” Then someone else said “Johnny Five, he’s alive,” and from that day, that’s what they called me. I don’t even like the name [laughs].
Photo: Theo Cottle
When did you first land in a proper studio?
I was living in Plaistow and had an uncle, Blemish, who was working with a lot of people who were doing well at the time, like Nu Brand Flexx. He’d come to the house and I’d play him beats and stuff, and he’d tell me to “come to the studio” just to “be around”. I was 14 and I’d travel from Plaistow on a bus for two-and-a-half hours to Thornton Heath in Croydon, stay there for the weekend and jump on the bus back. What was the first song of yours that started to travel?
The song I remember that was a turning point was when I did J Hus’ “No Lie”. We had some songs that we thought were doing well, until we realised what doing well is. We had songs that would do 100,000 views and we were like, “Oh my gosh, we’ve made it – 100,000 views.” But it’s only until you really have a song where you’re driving and everyone is playing the riddim and you’re like, “Oh, this is what gone is – it’s not 100,000 views.”
I was living in Plaistow and had an uncle, Blemish, who was working with a lot of people who were doing well at the time, like Nu Brand Flexx. He’d come to the house and I’d play him beats and stuff, and he’d tell me to “come to the studio” just to “be around”. I was 14 and I’d travel from Plaistow on a bus for two-and-a-half hours to Thornton Heath in Croydon, stay there for the weekend and jump on the bus back. What was the first song of yours that started to travel?
The song I remember that was a turning point was when I did J Hus’ “No Lie”. We had some songs that we thought were doing well, until we realised what doing well is. We had songs that would do 100,000 views and we were like, “Oh my gosh, we’ve made it – 100,000 views.” But it’s only until you really have a song where you’re driving and everyone is playing the riddim and you’re like, “Oh, this is what gone is – it’s not 100,000 views.”
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But hood famous is still a type of gone. It’s still good. What song made you hood famous?
The early J Hus stuff. “No Lie”. “Everyday” with Baseman. Even before the Hus stuff I had some NSG songs that were doing alright. We had some afrobeat songs that were doing alright. Back then, no one knew who produced anything – no one cared those times. It was very artist-focused. You could have a big song and no one gave a damn anyway. It feels to me like you’ve brought back the UK super producer – people care when they hear your tag. There’s loads of drill producers doing that now, but before drill was popping it was “JAE5”. Where did the tag come from?
I was working with my uncle Blemish and another guy called Randy Valentine as part of a production group called J.O.A.T. I never really liked tags, but my uncle was like, “Look, the artists are going to get the love, they’re never going to get in a room and big you up, so let’s tag it – it’s like a self advert.” I hated the idea, but he was right – the more J.O.A.T stuff that people heard, the more people wanted to work with us and the more we could make money. Those times we were charging £150 a beat and thinking we were killing it – but there was also three of us, so that was £50 each.Mm.
Then Randy decides to be a reggae artist and went and toured, and Blemish decides to manage him. That left me producing the songs as J.O.A.T while they were on tour. We were still splitting things, buuuut – I was doing pretty much all the production [laughs]. It got to a point where if it wasn’t all three of us doing the production we might as well branch out. I couldn’t keep the name J.O.A.T because I didn’t come up with the name, so I had to start again. My little brother Dennis [OGD in NSG] went in the room and sang JAE5 in three different notes and that was it.
The early J Hus stuff. “No Lie”. “Everyday” with Baseman. Even before the Hus stuff I had some NSG songs that were doing alright. We had some afrobeat songs that were doing alright. Back then, no one knew who produced anything – no one cared those times. It was very artist-focused. You could have a big song and no one gave a damn anyway. It feels to me like you’ve brought back the UK super producer – people care when they hear your tag. There’s loads of drill producers doing that now, but before drill was popping it was “JAE5”. Where did the tag come from?
I was working with my uncle Blemish and another guy called Randy Valentine as part of a production group called J.O.A.T. I never really liked tags, but my uncle was like, “Look, the artists are going to get the love, they’re never going to get in a room and big you up, so let’s tag it – it’s like a self advert.” I hated the idea, but he was right – the more J.O.A.T stuff that people heard, the more people wanted to work with us and the more we could make money. Those times we were charging £150 a beat and thinking we were killing it – but there was also three of us, so that was £50 each.Mm.
Then Randy decides to be a reggae artist and went and toured, and Blemish decides to manage him. That left me producing the songs as J.O.A.T while they were on tour. We were still splitting things, buuuut – I was doing pretty much all the production [laughs]. It got to a point where if it wasn’t all three of us doing the production we might as well branch out. I couldn’t keep the name J.O.A.T because I didn’t come up with the name, so I had to start again. My little brother Dennis [OGD in NSG] went in the room and sang JAE5 in three different notes and that was it.
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It’s become an iconic tag. You’ve got a journey already, and when you deep it you’re still really young. Let’s talk “No Lie” and going from hood famous to blowing up everywhere and having a hit. What’s going through your mind back then?
Honestly, I was thinking that this was a chance we could demonstrate not just being hood. “No Lie” was a hood banger – it was smashing – and I remember looking at Hus and thinking, ‘This is my chance to demonstrate we’re not just making hood aggression music,’ and luckily Hus was on the same page. He wanted to make a song that his brother could vibe to and shit, so then we came up with “Lean and Bop”. I showed that I could do house-influenced stuff, and he got to make a song for his brother. Lots of people around were saying, “Bro, you’re going to ruin this guy – he’s a bloody hood rapper, he’s gangster, you can’t be making this ‘Lean and Bop’ pop sell-out music shit” – but we didn’t listen. We said “Fuck it – we’re vibesing.” The song didn’t do anything crazy – I think it got to 60 at the time. Then we decided to go back to doing whatever the fuck we wanted. I was known as versatile, Hus was known as versatile – we could do hip-hop, house, or whatever it is. I remember that period. “Lean and Bop” charted and everyone was like, “Rah, these man came off ‘No Lie’ and ‘Dem Boy Paigon’ and now they’re in the charts.” It was significant. What was it like meeting Hus?
I knew Hus before he was rapping. When I first met him it was on a course where I was teaching people how to produce. He came for like two weeks and then decided it wasn’t for him – he was just coming there to get studio time. I didn’t see him for a year, and then he came out of jail and his manager and his friends were badgering me to work with him. When I finally got round to meeting him, it was like, ‘Ah, this is my guy, man’ – it was normal. I don’t know if it was because I’d met him before as a teacher, but he was down to take advice and opinions on stuff musically. He was down to soak in anything that was around. That’s what made me work with him.
Honestly, I was thinking that this was a chance we could demonstrate not just being hood. “No Lie” was a hood banger – it was smashing – and I remember looking at Hus and thinking, ‘This is my chance to demonstrate we’re not just making hood aggression music,’ and luckily Hus was on the same page. He wanted to make a song that his brother could vibe to and shit, so then we came up with “Lean and Bop”. I showed that I could do house-influenced stuff, and he got to make a song for his brother. Lots of people around were saying, “Bro, you’re going to ruin this guy – he’s a bloody hood rapper, he’s gangster, you can’t be making this ‘Lean and Bop’ pop sell-out music shit” – but we didn’t listen. We said “Fuck it – we’re vibesing.” The song didn’t do anything crazy – I think it got to 60 at the time. Then we decided to go back to doing whatever the fuck we wanted. I was known as versatile, Hus was known as versatile – we could do hip-hop, house, or whatever it is. I remember that period. “Lean and Bop” charted and everyone was like, “Rah, these man came off ‘No Lie’ and ‘Dem Boy Paigon’ and now they’re in the charts.” It was significant. What was it like meeting Hus?
I knew Hus before he was rapping. When I first met him it was on a course where I was teaching people how to produce. He came for like two weeks and then decided it wasn’t for him – he was just coming there to get studio time. I didn’t see him for a year, and then he came out of jail and his manager and his friends were badgering me to work with him. When I finally got round to meeting him, it was like, ‘Ah, this is my guy, man’ – it was normal. I don’t know if it was because I’d met him before as a teacher, but he was down to take advice and opinions on stuff musically. He was down to soak in anything that was around. That’s what made me work with him.
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What’s great about you and Hus is how it’s turned into a partnership. How did you become his go-to-guy?
The truth is, Hus was one of the most genuine people around. He was very straightforward. I didn’t know shit about the music business, so I was thinking I was entitled to 50 percent of his royalties. I was saying ridiculous things like that, where another person might say, “Fuck this guy, leave him,” but Hus turns around and says, “I don’t give a shit about the money – take 50 percent.” He didn’t care. He was one of them people that just didn’t give a shit. Also, in the early stages, he went to two other studios and didn’t like the way he sounded. So, early on in his career, he said, “Jae, I’m not fucking with no one else. Just you. They keep messing up my vocals.” Before he was big, he decided [my studio] was the only place he was working. Even if someone else produced the song or made the beat, he wanted to record here. That’s how “Dem Boy Paigon” came about. Someone else produced the song and then we recorded it in my studio.Compared to Common Sense, Big Conspiracy is a grown-up album. You can see that you’ve both grown as producers and men. You’re both in different spaces. There’s different messages. Part of that was because Hus had come out of jail and understood what his music represented a bit more. How much were you involved in that process?
With that second album, Hus was in a space where he wanted the music to represent how he felt. On Big Conspiracy, Hus took control – it’s 90 percent him. I was just the person mixing everything and connecting the parts for everyone.
The truth is, Hus was one of the most genuine people around. He was very straightforward. I didn’t know shit about the music business, so I was thinking I was entitled to 50 percent of his royalties. I was saying ridiculous things like that, where another person might say, “Fuck this guy, leave him,” but Hus turns around and says, “I don’t give a shit about the money – take 50 percent.” He didn’t care. He was one of them people that just didn’t give a shit. Also, in the early stages, he went to two other studios and didn’t like the way he sounded. So, early on in his career, he said, “Jae, I’m not fucking with no one else. Just you. They keep messing up my vocals.” Before he was big, he decided [my studio] was the only place he was working. Even if someone else produced the song or made the beat, he wanted to record here. That’s how “Dem Boy Paigon” came about. Someone else produced the song and then we recorded it in my studio.Compared to Common Sense, Big Conspiracy is a grown-up album. You can see that you’ve both grown as producers and men. You’re both in different spaces. There’s different messages. Part of that was because Hus had come out of jail and understood what his music represented a bit more. How much were you involved in that process?
With that second album, Hus was in a space where he wanted the music to represent how he felt. On Big Conspiracy, Hus took control – it’s 90 percent him. I was just the person mixing everything and connecting the parts for everyone.
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He might be a bit of a fortune teller, because the way 2020 turned out, it was perfect. You’ve worked with lots of other people as well. You worked with Mark Ronson, who I’ve been a fan of since I was a kid, when he released “Ooh Wee”. You’ve worked with Rudimental. Now you’re coming with your own stuff – you’ve got the Skepta and Rema track coming out.
Bro, what’s your honest opinion? Don’t lie.I like Rema – I think he’s wavey. I like Skepta – he’s a grime legend, but he’s found a new pocket in this afrobeat sound. For me, it’s a grown up version of what you were doing on Common Sense. How many singles are on the project?
The project isn’t finished – I don’t even know if it’s going to be a project yet, or what the project is. I just know I have six or seven really good songs and when I feel people want to hear a project from me, I’ll drop a project. I don’t want to do it prematurely. I hear that. That’s the right way to think. But also I want that project [laughs]. How did this tune come together?
Originally the song had another artist, but we couldn’t get everything to align. I was listening to the song like, ‘I know Skep will fuck this up.’ I played it to him and he was like, “Yeah, fuck it – let’s do it.” Before he came on the song, the vibe was a bit more party-like, but he made it a deeper song. I was like, ‘Everything happens for a reason, man.’ He smashed it. He made the track have a purpose. Getting producers known is important. You’re 50 percent of the work. The fact you and Skepta can connect like that is important – he’s the bridge between the grime you and I grew up listening to and the stuff that’s happening today. Are there other UK legends you’d like to work with?
I’d probably work with most of them – Kano, Ghetts, all of those guys. Skepta has naturally come. I haven’t been in a place where me and Kano have spoken. I’m not the person that would be out there DMing people. Lastly, the big question people will want to know is: are you working on Hus’ next album?
I’ll leave Hus to answer that question [laughs]. @isthatscully
Bro, what’s your honest opinion? Don’t lie.I like Rema – I think he’s wavey. I like Skepta – he’s a grime legend, but he’s found a new pocket in this afrobeat sound. For me, it’s a grown up version of what you were doing on Common Sense. How many singles are on the project?
The project isn’t finished – I don’t even know if it’s going to be a project yet, or what the project is. I just know I have six or seven really good songs and when I feel people want to hear a project from me, I’ll drop a project. I don’t want to do it prematurely. I hear that. That’s the right way to think. But also I want that project [laughs]. How did this tune come together?
Originally the song had another artist, but we couldn’t get everything to align. I was listening to the song like, ‘I know Skep will fuck this up.’ I played it to him and he was like, “Yeah, fuck it – let’s do it.” Before he came on the song, the vibe was a bit more party-like, but he made it a deeper song. I was like, ‘Everything happens for a reason, man.’ He smashed it. He made the track have a purpose. Getting producers known is important. You’re 50 percent of the work. The fact you and Skepta can connect like that is important – he’s the bridge between the grime you and I grew up listening to and the stuff that’s happening today. Are there other UK legends you’d like to work with?
I’d probably work with most of them – Kano, Ghetts, all of those guys. Skepta has naturally come. I haven’t been in a place where me and Kano have spoken. I’m not the person that would be out there DMing people. Lastly, the big question people will want to know is: are you working on Hus’ next album?
I’ll leave Hus to answer that question [laughs]. @isthatscully