Exclusive Mix and Interview with New York’s John Creamer

John Creamer needs no lengthy preamble for anyone who came of age on the New York underground in the 1990s. His name is bound up with a particular era of house music that still resonates in how the genre sounds today, an era when New York was producing some of the most sophisticated, vocally driven club music anywhere in the world, and Creamer was at the centre of it.

He arrived in that scene not as an outsider looking in but as someone embedded in it from the ground up. His early years at Eightball Records, first on the shop floor and eventually heading up A&R, gave him an education in music that no formal training could replicate. By 1994 he was already releasing records under the Butter Foundation name on Apollo, the R&S sub-label that carried considerable weight at the time. A year later came the partnership with Stephane K that would define much of his output across the following decade.

As Creamer & K, the pair built a discography that holds up remarkably well. Their remixes of iio’s Rapture, New Order’s Cristal and Sinead O’Connor’s Troy were not exercises in simply repackaging someone else’s work. They brought something to those records, a particular New York sensibility rooted in rhythm and groove, that made the results genuinely distinctive. Production credits across Moby, Kosheen and a host of others cemented their standing as one of house music’s more reliable and inventive pairings.

Creamer also moved beyond the studio, launching his own imprint NYLove and keeping himself active across both sides of the Atlantic. His DJ sets carry the same logic as his productions: patient, groove-led, built around the kind of deep, vocal house that rewards a dancefloor willing to listen as well as move. He does not chase trends, and the longevity of his career suggests that approach has served him well.

More recently he has been working with producer FALFAN on a series of releases through Dancepush, remixing German Brigante, Wally Lopez and Daniel Wanrooy, and has revisited the Creamer & K catalogue with fresh versions of Forget The World through Ready Mix Records. There is no sense of coasting on reputation here. The output is current and considered.

We sat down with Creamer ahead of this feature for a wide-ranging conversation that covers a lot of ground. He talks about those formative nights at Sound Factory with Junior Vasquez, the years spent building the Creamer & K sound before anyone was paying attention, and what it actually meant to hold onto your masters and publishing when everyone around you was signing them away. He is candid about stepping back from the industry for a period, taking his music offline entirely rather than compromise, and equally candid about what brought him back. It is a conversation with someone who has been through every era of this music and come out of it with a clear sense of who he is and what he is for.

For the mix, Creamer set himself a genuine challenge. He pulled together around 60 tracks spanning vocals, tribal elements and material that resists easy categorisation, then edited it down to something coherent across two hours. There is a track in there made with FALFAN, an edit with Tini Tune, and a thread of new music running through it that reflects where his head is right now. It is not a straightforward listen, and that feels entirely deliberate from someone who has never been particularly interested in making things easy.

You started out as a trombone player in a ska band, which feels like a different lifetime. Can you take us back to that first night at Sound Factory when everything changed, and what was it about standing on that dance floor that made you realize this was your path?

I started trombone very young, but I never gave it the time it needed to get really good. I was deep into hip-hop, ska and dance hall and gradually got pulled into house music. The trombone was my first real connection to being involved in music at all. Aside from listening. Then I was working at a record shop called Eightball Records, which was all dance music, and Many Ward worked there with me. He used to take me to Sound Factory to hear Junior Vasquez. The vibe, the music, the sound — it all hit me at once, and that kind of took over as far as musical direction. Danny Tenaglia and Frankie Knuckles, Troy Parrish, Masters at Work, Francois Kevorkian were enormously important to me. Concurrently, a lot of spots were incredible at that time. Places like Jackie 60, Life, Sound Factory Bar. The Sound Factory and Save The Robots. Those places shaped everything for me.

“91, 92 and 93 were very important years for me.”

Those years were shaped heavily by the nightclub culture. We’d hit three or four clubs a night. Hip hop was a huge influence, as well as dance hall, but it was getting whack for me. In the Mid nineties that money, flash, Puffy-era energy in the nineties became a reason further to turn to house music. Back then, places were playing everything — no bar, just dancing and great music.

Your partnership with Stephane K produced some genuinely beautiful music over the years, and it’s clear there was real chemistry there. What was it like when you first started working together after he arrived in New York, and did you both sense early on that you’d found something worth building?

Steph is a shy guy. He studied at Temple in Philadelphia and was going to Sound Factory around the same time as me — we met around ’93. We started working together around ’95. He had connections in Japan through certain labels, so we were vibing and building from early on, but it took six years of work together before we got any real recognition. All that time I was at the record shop, making connections, refining the sound. Wildpitch, Farley Heller, Angel Mareys were a major influence on us.

By ’99 things started taking off. I spent nine years at Eightball Records then moved to Satellite were Christian Bruna the drum and bass buyer for Satellite got the promo for Kosheen – Hide U which had the acapella on it. I borrowed it, we remixed it and put it on a cd sampler along with songs from Celeda, Trancesetters – Roaches. Either, Tini Tune or James Ben passed the cd onto John Digweed. Where he played it at Twilo, the old Sound Factory space. Then we remixed Satoshi Tomiie’s – Love and Traffic. It ended up on the John Digweed – Global Underground 019 LA compilation. At the same time, Creamer and K, we had Forget The World, a remix for Rapture with Iio. Also Rachel Star – Till There Was You.

After that, things just kept climbing. Steph handled more the engineering. I came in more on the beats and vocals side. The vocals helped us quite a bit because the vocals are commercially viable. And we couple the vocals with the underground sound.

Launching NY Love Records in 2004 must have felt like a huge leap. What made you decide to take on all the pressures of running a label on top of everything else, and did it change the way you approached making music when you were suddenly responsible for the business side as well?

I didn’t really plan it, but it happened and I had partners that were pushing for it. Kind of the thing to do. I came up with the NY Love name because its NY based music for the NY based people. It’s been the right home for the entire catalog which I’m in the process of re-uploading to distribution outlets. And this is happening as you’re reading this. Working at Eightball and Satellite for all those years meant I knew the ins and outs of how the industry functioned — publishing rights, ownership, distribution models.

All the originals are properly owned by myself and Steph. The label is managed by BIGZ at Ready Mix Records which helps things getting done. Keeping the masters and 100 per cent of publishing turned out to be one of the smartest decisions I ever made — genuinely resourceful in the long run is essential. I’m glad I still have it. There are new releases coming soon, and all the original catalogue is moving to NY Love. Knowing the business model meant I wasn’t willing to let other labels take a disproportionate cut of the work. You have to sell a significant volume to make the traditional label arrangement worthwhile. Doing it ourselves just made more sense.

You were there during what many consider New York’s golden era for house music, working A&R at Eightball Records and living through it all. When you think about that time, what do you genuinely miss about those days, and is there anything happening in the city now that gives you that same feeling?

I don’t make it to the city as much anymore, and there’s genuinely a lot of cool things still happening in New York. But after the pandemic, it felt like the same crew of agencies and bookings kept on going, and in a lot of ways the towns became homogenised. New York is in my veins — it made me who I am — but it doesn’t call to me the way it once did. Now I’ll do three dates, come home, work on tracks, and head back out. It’s a different rhythm.

What I miss most is the crew — bouncing between clubs and record stores, everybody vibing. All different colours, makes and models, as I like to say. Anywhere you walked in, there was this feeling of “aaahh… this is it.” From Thursday nights through to Sunday nights, the focus on music was just more intense. There was more dedication, more community. The core soul of the scene has gone quiet. Now you can generate music with AI. There are genuinely stellar ideas coming from the younger generation, which is exciting, but the word I keep coming back to is “community. That’s what I miss most.

New York has always marched to its own beat within American dance music culture. How do you feel about the current state of the US scene, and are there any cities or artists emerging that remind you of that hunger and creativity you felt when you were coming up?

It’s a lot of the same old, same old, but with pockets of real dopeness. The cities I’d want to go to for something underground right now? Houston, New York, Buenos Aires. They party until they party again. Detroit is always poppin’ too.

For artists to look out for, I’d say Eli Escobar, Brunello, Alex Tomb, Mike Kings and a ton more. You just got to search. There’s a core crew of DJs doing it properly in New York right now. I’d love to see more underground clubs like Refuge- all frills, all about the music. My favourite spot was Cielo.

We’d love to know what your studio looks like these days. Is there a particular plugin or piece of hardware that you find yourself reaching for on every track, something that just feels like home when you’re in creative mode?

I work between Logic Pro and Ableton. I’ll produce material on the laptop and send it out to be mixed and mastered. Ideally I’d still be working with hardware but plugins have taken over a lot of that territory. What I miss most, equipment wise sp1200, mpc3000, I’m not a huge stickler about equipment in general, because I’m producing across four different countries at this point — you use what’s there.

My workflow is a lot of layering, cutting, and snipping. Tape delay isa great effect. I like to sit in my favourite reading chair, play keys and draw them out, work with the Akai MPC. For bigger sessions sometimes there’s the SSL board and proper soundcards other times its on the laptop. For a full DJ mix I’ll move to the traditional setup of Pioneer CDJs, Ableton. The usual. My approach to DJing is based on the crowd the time, the crow the elements, outside, inside. playing stuff that keeps people moving but you don’t have to play out stuff you don’t like. 

AI tools are starting to show up everywhere in music production now, from generating ideas to mastering tracks. As someone who’s been through every technological shift, how does this one sit with you? Does it worry you at all, or do you see possibilities in it?

I’ll be straight — I’m against AI in music creation. It needs human management. AI fully making music, written prompts, on its own shouldn’t be allowed. I’ve tested AI for masters and would use that if I didn’t have a master in time for the show. Even then what is released comes from a human.

You’ve been doing this for over 33 years now. When you look back at how much has changed, from how we discover music to how we consume it to what actually gets made, what shifts have affected you the most, either positively or in ways that make you nostalgic for how things used to be?

Clubbing is a lot different now. I liked the past, though I’m also older, so some of that is just perspective. The scene in general was better then to me. But the technology? That’s genuinely better now. The plugins, the tools — the sheer amount of music being made using new technology is inspiring in its own way. Technology lets you do so much more.

If I could go back and change one thing, I’d have held onto all my old school equipment. I started on an MPC, and there’s something about that tactile, hardware-driven process that I’ll always have a deep connection to.

You’ve played everything from massive festival stages to sweaty basement rooms. Do you still get nervous before certain gigs, and how do you approach reading a crowd? Has your instinct for what people need changed as you’ve gotten older, or does it still come from the same place?

Always nervous. That’s a given for most people in this game — butterflies come with the territory. I’m playing for the crowd, and the crowd always knows what it wants. With younger audiences you can’t get too sophisticated with your selection. Depending on where I’m playing, I’m not changing my sound to suit a crowd, but I’m also aware of what I’m working with. The crowd should be open to the education — that’s really the promoter’s job, finding the right audience for the music being played. The curation of a night isn’t ultimately up to the DJ.

I once played after Ferry Corsten — went from 140 BPM straight down to 126. In situations like that, it’s not my call. Not much I can do. its a really drastic change. Shit like that is a pain in the ass. Reading the room becomes everything.

Your career has spanned so many different eras of dance music, and you’ve managed to stay relevant without losing yourself in the process. Were there moments where you felt the pressure to chase trends, and how did you navigate staying true to your sound whilst still evolving?

The EDM and festival era came, the mainstream money moved, and I simply didn’t want to change. I am what I am. I actually took my music offline for a while and stepped back entirely. What I came back with was just an updated version of what I was already doing — underground, with a hint of pop sensibility where it felt natural. The underground stuff is always what I gravitate toward most. I listen more now.

“I was never truly pressured to change, though I was certainly asked. I never gave in. That feels important to say.“

When you’re in the studio working on original material now, does it still give you the same buzz it did 20 years ago? Or has what you’re searching for in the music changed as you’ve lived more life and experienced more?

It’s gotten simpler in the best way — knowing what you’re doing, listening better, just living life and making it work. Working with producers like Falfan and Mike King has made it more exciting, not less. The honest truth is I wasn’t excited for a while, which is why I took my stuff down. I kept it real with myself. Money was never enough of a reason to compromise. I’m working on some raw, gritty original material right now, and that process of staying authentic — that’s what keeps me going.

You’ve created an exclusive mix for this interview, which we’re really excited about. Can you tell us about the journey you wanted to take people on with it, and are there tracks in there that mean something personal to you or that represent where your head’s at right now?

I tried to cover a lot of ground — map vocals, tribal elements, things that aren’t easy to navigate within two hours. It’s not a straightforward listen. There is one track I made with Falfan and edit with Tini Tune. Honestly, I selected around 60 songs and loved all of them, so editing it down to something coherent within the time frame and across all the genres I wanted to represent was the real challenge. That “Fragment” track is dope. I’m finding a lot of new music right now, and the mix reflects that energy.

Beyond the music, you’ve run a label, launched a clothing line, managed bars. That’s a lot of plates to keep spinning. Did you ever feel pulled too thin, or did these other ventures actually help keep your music fresh by giving you different creative outlets?

I kept them fairly separate so they didn’t bleed into each other too much. The clothing side is simple in concept, but the setup was a real pain. The bar was an interesting experience — especially being sober through most of it. These projects genuinely keep me going. COVID changed a lot, but we kept moving through it.

What I love to do most out of all of it, though? Cook. It kind of keeps me sane. Above everything else. Just be about it, keep it real.

The path you took to build your career simply doesn’t exist anymore for young producers. When you see talented kids trying to break through now, what do you wish you could tell them about the long game, about building something that lasts beyond just going viral?

People talk a lot about image — especially young people — and my answer is always the same: work, get things done, focus on the art. That’s the main thing. Don’t forget it’s an industry. Young artists are out here identifying themselves by genres of music that don’t even exists, using whatever label Beatport decides to slap on it. Claiming a false image. That catches up with you.

“Keep it real. It takes work. So do the work.”

After everything you’ve achieved and experienced, what still drives you to get in the studio or step behind the decks? Is there something you feel you haven’t done yet, or are you at peace with where the journey has taken you?

I’m at peace. I’m in a good quality shift right now. I like finishing things — getting projects completed is genuinely satisfying to me. I hate having things half-started. From start to finish, that’s an inspiring process in itself. Progress makes you want to progress more. I’m happy with where things are. It’s taken a while to get here, but we get things done. It’s a game, and we’ve got to win.

Tracklisting

1.- Barac – One who can see in the dark – John Creamer Edit

2.- Jansons – Yeah Yeah Yeah

3.- Sebastian Corral – White Diamond

4.- Monkey Safari – Take my soul

5.- Siza – Poma (Grander Dub)

6.- Rocco Rodamaal – The Loft

7.-Denney Ft. Penny – Promises (Dub)

8.- G Dom – Fragments

9.- Catz’ N Dogz & Theus Mago – Fly

10.- Victor Calderone & Mykol – Take you back

11.- Alan Dixon – Drumatic

12.- German Brigante – Você Não Pode – John Creamer & FALFAN

13.- Renato Cohen – Drum Solo

14.- Adrian Hour – Artikel 

15.- Oscar L- Anima – John Creamer Drum Edit

16.- Radio Slave Ft. Kameelah Waheed (Harry Romero Remix)

17.- Baron – DSCO

18.- Mighty Dub Katz – Let the drum speak (Butch Remix)

19.- Ivan Afro5 – Venezuela

20.- Lengenberg – Ideosami

21.- EdOne & Abuk – Crashing Da House (6AM Drums Mix)

22.- Fonz – Can’t Take It

23.- Lance Jordan Ft. Marta C – Shine together – (John Creamer & Stephane K Remix)

24.- Damian Lazarus Ft. Jem Cooke – Searching (Radio Slave Remix)

25.- Viel – Last Chance / John Creamer & Stephane K – Wish you were here

by Paul Andres

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