Image via Josh Renaut
Joy Orbison has always been a bit of a reluctant king when it comes to crafting dance floor bangers.
He originally earned the title with 2009’s “Hyph Mngo,” which made him a fixture of UK dance culture overnight, followed by the stuttering two-step of “Sicko Cell,” the gurgling, piano-laced drive of “Ellipsis,” and, most recently, last year’s “flight fm,” which I watched erupt an entire room at a Club Rhonda party in Los Angeles at 2 a.m. (One of his contemporaries, James Blake, was behind the decks that night — someone who, Joy tells me, actually recorded a full vocal take for the track at one point).
And yet, Joy O, real name Peter O’Grady, has always sidestepped the narrative of him as some prophet of late-night euphoria. Case in point: As we talk dance music — a genre where drums are historically the focal point — he’s telling me how kicks can actually be, sometimes, kinda annoying.
“You’re missing so much by just focusing on them,” he says over Zoom, speaking from the downstairs of his family home outside London with a soft, charming demeanor. “What’s quite nice with a sample or having a rhythm that’s not focused on the kick…you’re not getting slapped in the head by it all the time.”
It’s a sentiment that speaks to his whole production approach: always leaning toward texture, space, and tension — what’s left out, not just what hits hardest. And it’s part of what made his 2021 full-length debut, Still Slipping Vol. 1, such a departure from expectations. The record wove together voice notes from friends and family with downtempo loops and club-adjacent sketches that never really resolved into bangers but were always interesting. It was intimate and deeply rooted in the rhythms of daily life, not necessarily dance floors.
That same spirit shows up in “bastard,” his recent single with Essex rapper Joe James, a track so skeletal it barely has drums at all. Instead, O’Grady lets Joe drift across a stuttering, atmospheric bed built on a Jai Paul sample: “There would be a point in my career where I wouldn’t have done that…but to me and to Joe, [creating a track with no drums] was the most exciting thing,” he says. “When I made that record, I was like, this is where my head is at. For me, that record is almost a bit like a Griselda record, but from a dance music angle.”
As he begins work on his follow up to Still Slipping, our conversation drifts more toward hip-hop than dance music. Between “bastard” and a recent Fred again.. edit of “flight fm” — which layers verses from Lil Yachty, Future, and Playboi Carti over his instrumental — it became clear he wasn’t just dabbling in hip-hop; he was trying to engage in it.
In fact, that’s exactly how I pitched this interview to his publicist: “I want to talk to Joy Orbison about rap music.”
It turns out hip-hop was one of his earliest musical touchpoints. Growing up in and around South London, O’Grady spent his teenage years listening to Tim Westwood’s Radio 1 Rap Show, tuning in for guest mixes by Philly DJ Cash Money that blended 50 Cent, Dipset, The Neptunes, and other 2000s rap stalwarts. Sometimes he’d catch those broadcasts riding shotgun in the car of his uncle, drum and bass legend Ray Keith, who often had hip-hop on the stereo, he says. What’s more, his first forays into DJing came not through club records, but through cheap 12” rap singles from the local Virgin Megastore, which he’d beat juggle at house parties long before he found his footing as a producer.
All of this informs why O’Grady has never quite fit the box of being just a UK bass music producer (though, again, he’s very good at that). Through our conversation, I learn that he always has an ear to the ground — whether it’s the grime of his teenage years, the latest Griselda tape or the goth music of Northampton, his wife’s hometown and the birthplace of Bauhaus’ Peter Murphy, who O’Grady reveals he’s currently working with. He’s not chasing trends so much as following instincts, constantly searching for sounds that feel new, unfamiliar, or just true to what he’s feeling at the moment. That curiosity, more than any one genre or scene, is what ties his work together. – Reed Jackson
How was hip-hop reaching you in the UK when you were growing up?
Joy Orbison: I think I really started getting into it properly when dance music peaked for me — when I was about 13, 14, 15. I remember a big thing at my school was the Cam’ron record and the Diplomats tape. That was a big thing I remember. And then when 50 Cent first broke out here, because that was a huge thing.
Did you start DJing hip-hop around that time too?
Joy Orbison: Some of my early, I’d say gigs, like playing people’s parties and stuff like that — when I was like 15, 16 — I was playing hip-hop records. Because it was the only way I could actually really get to do stuff. If you’re playing drum and bass and stuff like that in them days…most people didn’t really want to hear that shit. So to play hip-hop allowed me to do a lot of vibes. And I met a lot of my friends, like older friends, through that. They’re like, “Oh, you’re that little guy who could beat juggle.”
What about grime? When did that come in?
Joy Orbison: I remember getting into grime just at the end of me being at school. So I remember the sort of transition point — because garage was sort of shifting and becoming less… it had gone into the sort of the charts and stuff. And then you had this other side of it, which was like Pay As U Go Crew, which was like Geenus and Wiley and Riko, God’s Gift. And it was like a major race, and they were like the East London kind of sound that became grime. DJ Slimzee, of course — their tapes at school were very… that was a big thing throughout that. They got copied and copied and copied.
And the saddest thing about it is very, very, very few people from that time ever really… there’s not many around now or made a lot of money. I remember I used to work at this music publisher. I came out of my office…and [this grime MC I recognized] just came up to me and he went, “I’m looking to buy a book about the music industry.” And I said, “Why are you asking me?” And he goes, “Because it says it’s a publisher [on the sign].” It really struck me because I remember thinking this was a guy that I’d watched on videos and heard on tapes. But he was out there just trying to learn and trying to get a foot in the industry. And, I mean, I was younger than him. I was like a kid. That was the reality of growing. You know, a lot of them were just totally in the dark, making sense of it themselves.
With your latest material, like the Joe James single “bastard,” you’ve been stepping into hip-hop more. How do you make sure you’re doing something new and not just stepping into someone else’s world?
Joy Orbison: Without watering it down or patronizing. I want him to tell his story and represent himself, but also be like, how can I slightly juxtapose this? And I think my audience is… I think they’re really open minded to what I’m doing. And I think they do get it. They really get where I’m coming from. And it gives me this confidence to be like, “Oh, I can have fun with this.” And even with “bastard,” you know there would be a point in my career where I wouldn’t have done that. Because I would have been like, “Oh, I don’t know how this is going to land. I don’t know how people are going to perceive this.” But to me and to Joe, it was the most exciting thing. When I made that record, I was like, this is where my head is at. For me, that record is almost a bit like a Griselda record, but from a dance music angle. That’s kind of how I saw it.
Ah, that’s such a cool way to put it. Are you a fan of Griselda in general?
Joy Orbison: I love that whole… like when I listen to Griselda Records, I’m always fascinated by the energy. And they seem so — you could look at it in a certain sort of backpack, boom-bap way — but actually, to me, it sounds really futuristic. It’s almost trying so hard to be like, oh, it’s computer music. The way the vocals are on Griselda records and just the adjectives flying around … it’s almost weirdly postmodern or something. It just doesn’t feel in sync with itself. It’s almost like a piece — like a joke, almost. Not a joke, that sounds harsh. But they’re strange, really strange concoctions sometimes when you listen to them. They sound incredible. Sonically, they’re so exciting. I like that energy of like, you know, we don’t need to have big drums or drops and stuff. Let’s play around with the minimalism.
Are you exploring this idea of minimalism in your own music right now? And do you connect being minimalist with being futuristic?
Joy Orbison: Yeah, definitely. On the Joe James thing, you know, it’s actually a Jai Paul sample that’s been cut up in that. I still think sampling…I’ve always thought that was kind of my initial thing when I first started making music, I could only really cut up samples. That was always the thing that I used to do. And it is my most honest way of saying what I want to say is by chopping up samples. I’m not a player. I can’t really play keys or anything like that.
But sampling is something I really love and particularly vocals. I think there is something very futuristic for me about sampling, because despite what you are sampling, that might be old, but you’re not. A sample for me feels very modern.
When we first hopped on this call, you were trying to describe what you thought of Los Angeles, where I’m based, and you compared it to Japan in its “vision of an old future.” I can’t help but think of that as you describe sampling.
Joy Orbison: I had a friend who picked me up once and we drove through an area [of L.A.], and it was almost, like, cottagey. [The houses aren’t] old, but they look old, almost English looking places. And I just loved all that. Like that sort of weird middle ground of time that I find. I quite enjoy the little bit of decay.
I used to get so stressed in L.A. I really enjoy coming to the States, but for years I didn’t. I couldn’t find my feet with it at all. And L.A. in particular, I used to get so stressed because I love that old sort of 1960s L.A., or ’70s as well — it’s really inspiring. And you get these ideas of it, but then you get there and you’re like, I don’t see any of that. And you’re just sort of in an Ace Hotel or something. It really does my head in. But now I’ve got friends there and I understand it a bit more. I’ve definitely got a different relationship with it.
I’m relatively new here, too. One aspect of the city I’ve loved learning about is its history with goth culture, with its goth bars and bands.
Joy Orbison: Well, my wife’s from Northampton, so like the birthplace of goth. And I was recently working with Peter Murphy [of gothic rock band Bauhaus]. I’m writing a record at the moment. And there’s a lot of these worlds that I’m trying to make sense of. And sonically, I think it will be a lot broader, but not in a sense that I’m going to jump on a guitar or something. It’s just a bit…thinking about people like Peter Murphy and how he sits within my world, you know, that to me seems doable now. But at a point in my career, I would have been like, “Fuck me, how do I make sense of Peter Murphy coming to me in the studio?” Or even Joe James or even drill guys, you know, not everybody would assume that from the records I’ve made that I could make sense of it.
Do you view working with these different artists as a chance to be playful where it’s like I don’t have to have kicks pounding at the start of every song?
Joy Orbison: When I get into the drum stuff, it takes me a long time and I really obsess over it. So I don’t even really want to hear anything if I’m like, that’s not right. It’s going to piss me off if I hear it in the studio. So a lot of artists write to my records without drums on it. And with Joe, he was off the bat just like, “Have you got anything with no drums in it?” Like he was straight away, I don’t want a drum.
So I’m taking the drums out of things anyway. I’ve still got like the “flight fm” [kicks] slapping, but it’s something I’m really interested in because a kick, you know, kicks are really annoying. If you turn the record down and pick out what your ear is hearing, you often just hear a hi-hat. And if you’re in another room and it’s loud, you just hear the kick. And it’s like, you’re missing so much by just focusing on it. What’s quite nice with a sample or having a rhythm that’s not focused on the kick…you’re not getting slapped in the head by it all the time. I love different rhythms and stuff like that. But it’s hard, you know, because sometimes four on the floor does say it all.
But sampling is something I really love and particularly vocals. I think there is something very futuristic for me about sampling, because despite what you are sampling, that might be old, but you’re not. A sample for me feels very modern.
When we first hopped on this call, you were trying to describe what you thought of Los Angeles, where I’m based, and you compared it to Japan in its “vision of an old future.” I can’t help but think of that as you describe sampling.
Joy Orbison: I had a friend who picked me up once and we drove through an area [of L.A.], and it was almost, like, cottagey. [The houses aren’t] old, but they look old, almost English looking places. And I just loved all that. Like that sort of weird middle ground of time that I find. I quite enjoy the little bit of decay.
I used to get so stressed in L.A. I really enjoy coming to the States, but for years I didn’t. I couldn’t find my feet with it at all. And L.A. in particular, I used to get so stressed because I love that old sort of 1960s L.A., or ’70s as well — it’s really inspiring. And you get these ideas of it, but then you get there and you’re like, I don’t see any of that. And you’re just sort of in an Ace Hotel or something. It really does my head in. But now I’ve got friends there and I understand it a bit more. I’ve definitely got a different relationship with it.
I’m relatively new here, too. One aspect of the city I’ve loved learning about is its history with goth culture, with its goth bars and bands.
Joy Orbison: Well, my wife’s from Northampton, so like the birthplace of goth. And I was recently working with Peter Murphy [of gothic rock band Bauhaus]. I’m writing a record at the moment. And there’s a lot of these worlds that I’m trying to make sense of. And sonically, I think it will be a lot broader, but not in a sense that I’m going to jump on a guitar or something. It’s just a bit…thinking about people like Peter Murphy and how he sits within my world, you know, that to me seems doable now. But at a point in my career, I would have been like, “Fuck me, how do I make sense of Peter Murphy coming to me in the studio?” Or even Joe James or even drill guys, you know, not everybody would assume that from the records I’ve made that I could make sense of it.
Do you view working with these different artists as a chance to be playful where it’s like I don’t have to have kicks pounding at the start of every song?
Joy Orbison: When I get into the drum stuff, it takes me a long time and I really obsess over it. So I don’t even really want to hear anything if I’m like, that’s not right. It’s going to piss me off if I hear it in the studio. So a lot of artists write to my records without drums on it. And with Joe, he was off the bat just like, “Have you got anything with no drums in it?” Like he was straight away, I don’t want a drum.
So I’m taking the drums out of things anyway. I’ve still got like the “flight fm” [kicks] slapping, but it’s something I’m really interested in because a kick, you know, kicks are really annoying. If you turn the record down and pick out what your ear is hearing, you often just hear a hi-hat. And if you’re in another room and it’s loud, you just hear the kick. And it’s like, you’re missing so much by just focusing on it. What’s quite nice with a sample or having a rhythm that’s not focused on the kick…you’re not getting slapped in the head by it all the time. I love different rhythms and stuff like that. But it’s hard, you know, because sometimes four on the floor does say it all.
So I’m taking the drums out of things anyway. I’ve still got like the “flight fm” [kicks] slapping, but it’s something I’m really interested in because a kick, you know, kicks are really annoying. If you turn the record down and pick out what your ear is hearing, you often just hear a hi-hat. And if you’re in another room and it’s loud, you just hear the kick. And it’s like, you’re missing so much by just focusing on it. What’s quite nice with a sample or having a rhythm that’s not focused on the kick…you’re not getting slapped in the head by it all the time. I love different rhythms and stuff like that. But it’s hard, you know, because sometimes four on the floor does say it all.