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A Chat with Andrew Emil
We speak to prolific artist Andrew Emil around the time he released "Can't Stop" with the legendary Ron Caroll who sadly passed away last year. A wide ranging conversation that touches on music, life and more...
The New Record “Can’t Stop” and Ron’s Presence. “Can’t Stop” feels like a celebration record with disco string stabs, a live-feeling bass line, and Ron Carroll front and centre. Can you walk us through the earliest spark for the track, the first loop that told you it was special, and how that idea evolved into the final arrangement?
Absolutely. The earliest spark came from this little 8-bar sample that DJ Red Eye had been sitting on for a while, and it had all the right ingredients: a solid rhythm section, live bass, strings, keys, and guitar that just screamed Chicago energy. When he played it for me, I immediately knew it had the bones of a classic 90s-era disco-loop house record, the kind that feels alive and human.
From there, we started looping, chopping, and re-arranging sections to find the pocket where it really breathed. I treated it like a band performance by adding subtle movement with filters, automation, and a few harmonic touches to give it that lift in the chorus without losing the grit. Once that skeleton felt right, I sent it to Ron, because in my mind, he was the voice that could carry that feeling.
Ron came back with “Can’t Stop,” and the moment I dropped his vocals into the session, it was like the track suddenly stood up straight and joyful. The energy was undeniable. From that first loop to the finished mix, the goal was always to preserve that initial spark, that sense of celebration, of movement, of not wanting that moment to end.
“Can’t Stop” now lands as a living tribute. When you listen back today, which moments, an ad-lib, a harmony stack, a lyric turn, hit you differently, and why?
When I listen back to “Can’t Stop” now, it hits completely differently. There are a few spots that stop me in my tracks every time. The little ad-libs and the breakdown Ron throws in right before the final hook, almost like he’s smiling through the microphone. He just felt it in the moment. And knowing now that this would be the only original record we’d ever create together, that tiny spontaneous moment feels enormous. It has a whole new weight.
The harmony stacks on the chorus are so strong. Ron layered them with such intention that he knew exactly how to lift a phrase without overselling it. There’s this subtle upper harmony he floats on top of the hooks, and every time I hear it now, it feels like he’s leaving a signature in the air, something only he could do.
So yeah… the record hasn’t changed, but my relationship to it has. Those little moments, the ad-libs, the harmonies, the phrasing, feel like pieces of Ron that I get to revisit every time the song plays. It’s become more than a track. It’s a living memory.
Could you take us into the first creative spark with Ron on this song? What did he respond to immediately, and where did he push you to go further?
The first spark with Ron on this one was instant. I sent him the track once we were done with it, and he gravitated immediately toward the energy of the groove. He loved that it felt classic but not nostalgic, something that was in conversation with the lineage rather than just borrowing from it. This is the mark I set out to hit with Red Eye.
What he pushed me on was intention. Ron would never just “lay a vocal” on something. He wanted purpose, a narrative, a feeling that could carry beyond the club. If the track was going to speak to joy, the arrangement needed space for breath and uplift. He pushed me to think less like a technician and more like a storyteller.
So the spark was that immediate recognition of shared language. And from there, Ron was the compass. He wasn’t just responding to the music; he was shaping the atmosphere, pushing us to elevate the production so the message could shine through.
What were the key choices you made in tempo, drum programming, and chord movement to keep it warm and human while still club-ready at peak time?
For me, the balance between warm and human versus peak-time club energy always comes down to a handful of really deliberate choices. Tempo was the first one. I kept it in that sweet mid-120s range, fast enough to move a room, but slow enough that the groove can actually breathe. That’s a very Chicago thing: let the pocket do the talking instead of forcing the track to feel hyped.
On the drum programming, I leaned heavily into swing and feel rather than grid perfection. I built the drums around a loose, almost “band-in-the-room” sensibility: tight kicks and hats, but with micro-shifts that make it feel lived-in, not sterile. Some of that comes from my percussion background; I’m always chasing the energy of a section playing together, even in electronic music. I also kept the textures warm, with more rounded transients and a hint of harmonic grit, so the drums feel inviting rather than aggressive.
The chord movement was the emotional glue. Using the main sample as a harmonic compass, I layered subtle voicings on top to give the piece that soulful depth without sounding overly complicated. It’s the kind of harmony where you feel it before you consciously hear it.
All those decisions were made to preserve the human touch. The warmth comes from intention, and the club-readiness comes from restraint. When the tempo, drums, source material, and harmonies are all breathing together, that’s when the track feels alive on a sound system. And “Can’t Stop” needed to feel alive. It needed to carry Ron’s voice with the kind of glue that a dancer can lock into at peak time.
If you were to write liner notes now, what single memory from the sessions captures the spirit of the record?
If I were writing liner notes today, there’s one moment that captures the entire spirit of “Can’t Stop.” When Ron turned in his session, he called me up, and I could hear that unmistakable smile in his voice as he said, “That’s the one, Scientist. That’s the feeling right there.” It wasn’t loud or dramatic; it was calm, confident, almost spiritual. A quiet acknowledgment that we’d tapped into something honest.
And if there’s a single memory that embodies the soul of the record, it’s the exchange that happened right after I sent him and Red Eye the first mixdown Carlos delivered. In that instant, it felt like the whole project revealed itself. We all knew we had something special.
What were the “non-negotiables” each of you brought to the table? Ron, as vocalist and songwriter, along with Red Eye and you. Where did those overlap into the record’s identity?
Every one of us came into this project with a few “non-negotiables,” and that’s actually what shaped the identity of “Can’t Stop.”
For Ron, the biggest non-negotiable was truth. He wasn’t interested in just cutting a vocal because the track was hot; he needed a message, a purpose, a place to put his spirit. Ron demanded emotional clarity. The vocalist had to testify, not just perform.
For Red Eye, it was respect for the source. That original loop he’d been holding onto had all the DNA of a classic Chicago record: strings, bass, keys, that '90s shimmer, and he was adamant about preserving the soul of it. No cheap tricks, no diluting the essence. His non-negotiable was integrity to the sample’s lineage. It had to feel like a strong record at its core.
For me, the non-negotiable was warmth and humanity. I wanted the record to breathe, to feel lived-in, not engineered to death. The drums needed to swing, the harmonies needed to lift, and the arrangement needed space for Ron’s voice to bloom. I wouldn’t compromise on that. If any element started feeling too cold or too clinical, I pushed it back toward something more natural, more intentional.
Where those three non-negotiables overlapped, that’s the identity of the record. It’s truthful because of Ron. It’s rooted because of Red Eye. And it’s alive because of the choices I made in production. The intersection of those values created a track that isn’t trying to be trendy or nostalgic; it’s simply authentic. It honors where we come from and what we each hold sacred in the music.
That overlap is why “Can’t Stop” feels like more than just a collaboration. It feels like three perspectives aligning into one statement.
Can you walk us through a specific arrangement change that unlocked the track, e.g., a pre-chorus extension, drum swing tweak, or bass re-voice that only happened because of a note from Ron or Red Eye?
There was one arrangement shift that really unlocked the track, and it came straight out of a conversation between me and Red Eye. The original transition into the hook was pretty direct. It worked, but it didn’t hit. It didn’t give Ron’s phrasing or the music, the runway it needed, and it didn’t set up the hook with enough anticipation.
So we went back in and built a proper break. We pulled the drums back just enough to create space, added some filtering automation to open and close the groove, and worked in a few syncopated percussion stabs to add tension. After that, I brought in ride cymbals on the second half of the hook to really push the energy before dropping back into that break again. That interplay became a defining part of the track’s movement.
The Radio Edit brought its own set of challenges. We had to dismantle the longer Main Mix and figure out how to land the same emotional arc in about three and a half minutes. After a lot of testing, deciding what was essential and what had to disappear, we landed on a version that feels tighter and more intentional. Honestly, it’s my favorite mix. It says what it needs to say, hits the point, and gets out.
How did you align on the disco-laced palette here, and what principles guide you when you’re balancing the sound you are looking for?
The disco-laced palette came together almost organically. Red Eye brought in that original loop, and the moment I heard those strings, that bass glide, the shimmer in the strings, I knew we were stepping into a very specific lineage. It wasn’t about chasing “disco” as a trend, it was about honoring the Chicago interpretation of disco, that 90s sample-driven energy where soul and swing sit right on top of a driving house groove.
The alignment really happened in the conversations. Red Eye was committed to preserving the essence of that loop; he didn’t want it over-processed or stripped of its warmth. I was focused on making sure the modern production wrapped around it without losing the human feel. And Ron, he’s lived through every era of this music, immediately brought the vocal sensibility that tied the whole palette together. He knew exactly how to lean into that lineage without sounding retro.
When I’m balancing a sound like this, I follow a few core principles:
1. Respect The Source: If the palette starts with a loop, a sample, a progression, whatever it is, you treat it as the emotional center. Everything should reinforce its identity, not overwrite it.
2. Warmth Over Gloss: I’m always chasing movement, contrast, and imperfection. Even when the drums hit hard, the transients shouldn’t feel cold. There should always be contrasting elements, like sharp sounds or transient sounds against smooth or legato sounds. The goal is to make people feel the music, not just hear it.
3. Groove Is Everything: Before I think about plugins, synths, or FX, I think about pocket. If the swing isn’t right, if the bass isn’t talking to the drums, if the chords aren’t lifting at the right spots, no amount of polish will save it.
4. Honor The Lineage Without Recreating It: A disco-laced palette doesn’t mean making a throwback record. It means channeling the spirit, musicianship, perspective, and spiritual nature, and letting it sit naturally inside a contemporary house framework.
That’s ultimately how we landed where we did. The palette wasn’t forced; it was revealed. And once the three of us aligned on what the record felt like, everything else fell into place with intention.
Chicago, Legacy, and Community - “Can’t Stop” is framed as a love letter to Chicago. Which parties, radio shows, or studios are living inside this record? Give us one concrete line from that lineage to the final mix.
“Can’t Stop” is absolutely a love letter to Chicago, and there are very specific rooms, nights, and voices living inside this record.
When I think about the lineage woven into the mix, the first place my mind goes is Red Dog in the late ’90s. Those Monday nights where the energy was that the room was packed, sweaty, communal, and unapologetically Chicago, that was my baptism into the culture. The way Johnny Fiasco or Lego would extend out records with doubles or let a vocal fly over a stripped-down beat tracks, that’s exactly the kind of tension-and-release we built into the arrangement of “Can’t Stop.”
Then there’s dearly beloved Gramaphone Records, where you’d walk in, hear something raw and soulful on the speakers, and instantly know you had to go home and make a better record. That spirit, curation as education, is all over the palette we chose.
If I had to point to one concrete throughline from that lineage to “Can’t Stop,” it would be this:
The way the vocals create an entirely new song over the sampled groove.
In Chicago, from the clubs to the radio mixes to the basement studios, the culture has always been the kick grounding the room, the bassline dancing around it with swagger and swing. That interplay is something I internalized at Red Dog and Smarbar, refined at Gramaphone, and learned to shape in pro rooms like Zentra, Slick’s Lounge, etc.
And that lineage shows up in the final mix of “Can’t Stop.” The groove breathes the way a Chicago record should. The drums lean forward, the bass wraps around them, and Ron sits right in the center like the voice of the city itself.
That’s the line, from the dancefloor that raised me to the studios that shaped me, all the way to this record.
Ron’s recent Chicago performances and the immediate outpouring from the community since his passing underline how deep his roots are. What does Chicago do, both musically and socially, that you can’t fake anywhere else?
Chicago gives you something you can’t fake: accountability to the culture. This city doesn’t let you coast on aesthetics or image. You have to feel it, live it, and show up for people. That’s why Ron was so deeply loved here; he embodied that standard. He didn’t just perform in Chicago; he belonged to it, and it belonged to him.
Musically, Chicago teaches you that groove is a language and community is the grammar. You learn how to tell the truth with a kick drum. You learn that a vocal isn’t just a hook, it’s testimony. And you learn that if you’re going to tap into this lineage of Black Music Excellence, you'd better respect the people who built it, because they’re often standing in the same room as you.
Socially, Chicago is built on real relationships. Not clout. Not algorithms. It’s “who was there when you were coming up,” “who picked up the phone at midnight,” “who handed you a record and said, ‘Try mixing this next.’” The city rewards authenticity and will call you out instantly if you’re faking it. That honesty shapes the music too. You can hear when someone is making a Chicago record from the outside looking in, and you can hear when someone is making it from the inside out.
What Ron embodied, and what Chicago demands, is heart. Not perfection, not polish, heart. A deep, communal, generational commitment to keeping this sound alive and constantly moving it forward is the price of tuition. Ron could walk into any club or studio in this city and be welcomed like family because he carried that truth everywhere he went.
That’s what Chicago does. It gives you a standard of soul you can’t manufacture. It gives you a community that remembers. And once you’re part of it, you’re part of something bigger than yourself, something you can’t fake, replicate, or outsource.
That’s what Ron represented. And that’s what The Great City of Chicago continues to stand for.
Give us the signal chain. What’s on the inserts, what’s on the buses, and where did subtle work make the biggest difference?
If you want the real nuts-and-bolts signal chain, it was intentionally simple. With a vocalist like Ron, the philosophy is “don’t gild the lily.” Capture the truth, don’t smother it.
For the vocal tracking/mixing chain, we kept it classic:
A clean large-diaphragm condenser, aka AKG Solid Tub,e with a little extra presence to catch the air in Ron’s delivery. Into an Avalon VT-737sp preamp, just kissing the gain so he could lean in without it getting brittle. From there, a gentle Eventide Omnipressor, we’re talking 2–3 dB tops, just to catch the enthusiastic peaks without flattening his dynamic personality.
That’s it. Nothing exotic. Ron brought the tone; I just got out of the way.
On the inserts during mixing, the goal was finesse, not surgery.
A light FabFilter Pro-Q to open the top end, and roll off the low end, just enough to let the air and breathiness float above the track. A subtle Softube Weiss de-esser, but with a long, natural envelope so we didn’t shave off the sparkle in his S’s. And then an Omnipressor doing a touch of character shaping, not compression, just that hint of harmonic grit that keeps the vocal glued in a house mix.
Bus processing is where the real lift happened:
An SSL G-Bus compressor set to breathe with the tempo, slow attack, quick release, so Ron felt like he was in the groove, not sitting on top of it. Saturation from Waves Audio Magma and Soundtoys Decapitator. A short Waves Audio Abbey Road Chambers reverb to give him physical presence, and a long, nearly subliminal hall sitting 20–25 dB down just for emotional bloom. A stereo Waves Audio H-Delay, barely audible, to create that immediacy, like he’s right in front of you at the club.
Additional engineering was done by Carlos Ruiz in NYC, who put some automations, glue, polish, and final mixdowns that took our first mixes to another level. Thanks again, Carlos!
How did your production outlook differ working on something more Disco than House?
Working on something more disco than straight-up house shifts my whole production mindset in a few important ways. With house, especially Chicago house, I’m usually thinking about utility, the pocket, the hypnosis, the way a DJ is going to blend it at 2:00 a.m. There’s a functional backbone to it. Even when it’s soulful, it’s built to work on a dancefloor.
But with disco, even modern, sample-driven, Chicago-informed disco, the outlook becomes more orchestral. You’re thinking in terms of layers, flourishes, sound design, and emotion orchestration. It’s less about the loop and more about the layers.
So, the production outlook changes because the purpose of the music changes. A house track is a tool; a disco track is a story.
In 2025, vocal-led music is experiencing another moment of resurgence across festivals and boutique venues. What’s exciting you about how singers and producers are collaborating now, and where do you see the next wave coming from?
What’s exciting to me right now is that singers and producers are finally meeting each other in the middle again. For a while, electronic music got so loop-driven and texture-focused that vocals were almost treated like another piece of sound design. Now we’re back to seeing vocalists as storytellers, and producers as architects who build worlds around that story. Thank you!
What I love about the current moment is the intentionality. Singers aren’t just cutting hooks; they’re bringing perspective and identity again. And producers are responding by creating space for vocals to breathe. People want real emotion again; they want humanity. They want to feel connected to the person behind the microphone.
What’s also shifting is the collaborative process itself. Producers are no longer siloing themselves in a DAW and sending files back and forth. They’re writing in the same room, shaping melodies together, building arrangements around vocal phrasing instead of forcing vocals onto pre-existing beats. It’s a more musical approach, and it shows.
As far as the next wave? I think it’s coming from three places:
1. Cross-Generational Collaborations: You’re starting to see younger producers working with seasoned vocalists/producers who carry real soul lineage. That combination, fresh production sensibilities with veteran emotional depth, is powerful. Records with that kind of depth don’t sound disposable. I have been working with many younger producers in the last couple of years.
2. Hybrid Live/DJ Performances: A lot of boutique venues are embracing curated, intimate sets where vocalists perform with stripped-down, groove-forward arrangements. The line between house set and live show is blurring in a really exciting way.
3. Community-Driven Scenes Outside The “Big Three” Cities: You’re seeing pockets of vocal-forward dance music growing out of local collectives, and those micro-scenes are where the next wave usually starts. That grassroots energy is very familiar to me; it reminds me of how Chicago built its identity.
The resurgence is happening because people are hungry for feeling. That’s the future I’m excited about. The return of records that mean something.
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Release strategy: playlists, vinyl runs, DJ servicing, radio. For a record like this, what actually moves the needle and what’s just noise even when metrics say otherwise?
For a record like “Can’t Stop,” there’s a big difference between what looks good on a dashboard and what actually moves the needle in the real world. Metrics will tell you one story, but the culture, the DJs, and the community tell you the truth.
Playlists matter, but not in the way people think. The big editorial house playlists give you visibility, sure, but they’re fleeting. They spike your graph for a week or a month, and then you’re gone. The playlists that actually count are the smaller, tastemaking ones, the curators who live in the genre, who really break records. When they support you, it’s because they believe in the track, not because it fits an algorithmic mood. Those are the people who amplify the record’s credibility.
We decided to make a music video for this song that represented the Love Letter to Chicago vibe that Ron wrote about in his lyrics. We felt that this was a strong way to connect to a larger audience, especially as there was no plan for a physical/vinyl release of it at this time.
DJ servicing is the heartbeat. In House Music, especially Chicago-rooted music, if the DJs aren’t playing your record, it doesn’t exist. When the right selectors put your track into rotation, or on a chart, everything else follows. A single co-sign from a respected DJ will do more for a record like this than any paid campaign.
Sad to say, I don’t know if standard FM radio outside of like BBC, popular online stations, community radio, college radio, specialist shows, or late-night FM still matters for this kind of music. However, a spin on the right show can connect you to the people who actually care, not just scroll.
I also still believe in using press agencies for the right record (shout out to Greg at Additive PR and Matt at MIL-MGMT) to get it to a larger audience in the sea of music that comes out every week.
For a record like this, the needle moves when real people in real spaces respond to it. When dancers feel it in their chest. When DJs champion it. When community radio spins it with context.
Everything else is noise. The culture is the metric that matters.
If you could stage one “Can’t Stop” celebration set, Chicago or ADE style. Who joins you on stage or in the booth, and how would you sequence the night?
We tried to put together a proper release event for this record here in Chicago, but the stars just didn’t align. It would’ve been a full partnership between Salted Music, I Love House Music Chicago, and Rick Martinez, and the lineup was something special: Miguel Migs, Ron Carroll, Red Eye, me, Mike Dunn, Terry Hunter, and Adorio.
The plan was beautiful. Adorio would open, then Red Eye, and I would tag for a stretch. Mike and Terry would follow with their tag set, then Ron would take the stage. After that, the three of us, Ron, Red Eye, and I, were going to perform the record live, and Miguel would close the night.
I really wish that could’ve happened, especially now, knowing it never will. Rest in peace, Ronald Carroll.