Working with a legend like Stranger Cole on a project—man, it didn't even feel like work. It felt like a great vacation, just pure vibes, creative freedom, and heavy music. Hearing that he passed away recently really hits hard. It makes you look back and reflect on how everything in life lines up, and it forces you to give the ultimate respect to the pioneers who laid down the foundation.
​When you lose someone who was such a pillar, it makes you realize how fragile history is. If my family had packed up and moved me to America when I was just a kid, there is absolutely no way I would’ve ever gotten the chance to sit at a mixing board and work with artists of that caliber.
​Think about the reality of it. If I grew up in the US, I would've been funneled into a rigid school system, completely cut off from where the music was actually being born. I wouldn't have been experimenting with electronics, building my own gear from scraps, or walking into the Kingston studios where we were rewriting the rules of audio every single day.
​In America, a young immigrant kid with a passion for sound would’ve been buried under systemic barriers and corporate studio hierarchies—probably stuck fetching coffee or running cables for years before ever getting near a master tape. I would've just been another face in a crowded Western market, totally disconnected from the roots.
​Being right there in Jamaica, coming up in that high-pressure, competitive environment, is what gave me the playground to learn the craft on my own terms. That’s the only reason the doors opened for me to collaborate with true legends.
​Losing Stranger Cole is a heavy reminder that the music we made only happened because of a specific time and a specific place. It was an honor to touch the faders for him. Travel safe, Elder. The music lives on forever