How Mustard became the most accomplished producer of his generation

Hits galore, solo projects, and a label boss status: in less than 10 years, Mustard has nearly achieved everything a producer could—and he’s still hungry for more.

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN FRENCH ON YARD.MEDIA

"I thought I’d just be a DJ in L.A. for the rest of my life." Mustard may not have foreseen his future, but he had enough vision to make it far brighter than it was supposed to be. The man who never imagined leaving Los Angeles now finds himself in Paris for Fashion Week, after already taking his music around the globe. And while he might not be a household name among those roaming the fashion show circuits, it's impossible not to notice him, thanks to his flashy collection of jewelry—clear signs of a lavish lifestyle.

Producers are often asked what it takes to succeed in their field. Some measure it by the number of hits. Others see the ultimate achievement as being able to release projects under their own name, without being confined to the shadows of an artist. For Scott Storch, the true power of a producer lies in their ability to develop an artist. Mustard didn’t bother searching for the right answer—he simply checked every box.

His discography spans from Tyga to Rihanna, from YG to Roddy Ricch, stacking up certifications of all kinds. He appears on stage and in music videos, recognized by an audience that usually pays little attention to those working behind the scenes. Add to that three studio albums, the most recent one, Perfect Ten, released on June 28, 2019, under 10 Summers, the label he founded in 2015. From that same project, the track Ballin’ earned him a Grammy nomination. Nothing new for someone who, a year earlier, had already won the Grammy for Best R&B Song with Boo’d Up, a track produced for "his" artist Ella Mai—an unknown just a few years prior.

Even better: Mustard can now claim full ownership of the rights to the hits he produces, ever since he (paradoxically?) agreed to sell part of his catalog. If that sounds confusing, let him break it down for you in this interview with a California DJ who, through hard work and vision, became much more than that.

The decade has just ended. You started it with your first hit, Rack City, in 2011, and finished it having done everything a producer could dream of today. What’s your greatest achievement?

My greatest achievement has to be Ella Mai’s success. That’s what I’m most proud of to this day. Because in my opinion, the hardest thing for a producer is to make an artist blow up when no one knows them, when they’re not established in the game yet. Plus, there’s a really natural connection between us. And today, the whole world knows her.

When you started as a DJ, did you already imagine your career would expand this much?

Not at all. I don’t think I ever saw that far ahead. I really thought I’d just be a DJ in L.A. for the rest of my life. That’s all I ever aspired to be. I never really thought about becoming a producer until I actually started producing. And from there, I just went with it.

How did you get started?

I got into DJing because my uncle was a DJ. When I was around 11, he took me to a party and let me take over. From that moment on, I DJ’d whenever I got the chance. As for producing, it all started with my friend YG. I knew he needed beats because, up until then, Ty [Ty Dolla $ign] was handling that for him. But Ty was starting to take his own career as an artist more seriously, so I stepped in. I was like, "I can make beats too." So I gave it a shot. Ty showed me a little bit, and then I figured the rest out on my own.

But now, you’re no longer DJ Mustard—just Mustard. What does that mean to you?

It just means I wear a lot of hats. I’m not just a DJ, I’m not just a producer, I’m not just an artist—I’m a bit of everything at once. And I felt like "DJ" was a bit… No disrespect to DJs, because that’s where I come from, but I feel like having DJ in your name kind of limits you to just being a DJ. But I do a lot more than that.

So how does one become "more" than just a DJ, "more" than just a producer?

It takes a lot of work, sleepless nights, investing in everything surrounding your main craft. Some DJs just want to be DJs for the rest of their lives, and that’s perfectly fine. But I knew I had bigger things to accomplish. So I got into producing, which then allowed me to create a label. With my label came my artists. Then, as I became an artist myself, I started wanting to create my own records because I got tired of working with artists who weren’t fully aligned with my vision.

Honestly, it’s mostly about ignoring what others say and believing in yourself. It’s the confidence I had in myself that got me where I am today.

Speaking of branding—your producer tag is instantly recognizable. What role has it played in your career?

It helped establish me as a brand. That tag is like my signature. I didn’t really know what I was doing when I came up with it—I just knew it would be the way people recognized my beats. There was no other way for listeners to know who produced a song, especially since I wasn’t the only one making that type of music. So I started putting my tag on everything. And before I even realized it, it became something everyone remembered.

I heard you recently had to sell part of your catalog to fully own your work. Can you explain that?

First of all, this isn’t something you can do as soon as you step into the game—I need to make that clear because I don’t want to sell a dream to young artists. I had to work my way up to the point where I had enough money to even consider selling my catalog.

But to summarize, I sold my rights to some of the songs I produced. Pretty much everything I placed up until 2016—I don’t own those anymore. The thing is, I had publishing deals on those tracks, which means I didn’t even own half of them anyway. I was only getting small percentages. So once I got rid of those tracks, I was able to start fresh. I kept only the newer records—the ones I released from 2017 onward, like Boo’d Up or BIG BANK. I fully own those because now, I have admin deals instead of publishing deals. And that’ll be the case for every song I drop from now on.

Was it hard to let go of those songs, which are part of your legacy?

Not really, because I’m only 29, and I still have a long career ahead of me. For a moment, I was like, "Wow, I’m really selling my songs…" But like I said, I didn’t even fully own them in the first place. I just sold the small portion I had.

And now, my machine is already running. That means my new records are performing even better than the old ones. It’s like I emptied my first clip and reloaded with fresh ammunition. The difference is that this time, I can get maximum profit from these new records because they fully belong to me.

So it’s a bet on yourself, essentially?

Absolutely! But to be honest, even before selling my catalog, I was already betting on myself. Because I signed every one of those publishing deals with the mindset that I’d eventually be able to break free from them. The money I made from selling those songs—I used it to pay off my publishing deals and then renegotiated new contracts that worked better for me.

You worked closely with Nipsey Hussle, who was a major advocate for music ownership. What should people take away from his message?

A lot of people only focus on part of Nipsey’s message. Sometimes I see young artists saying they want to own their masters, and I think, "Do you even know what it means to own your masters?" Everyone is so obsessed with his success that they forget the struggle behind it. So sure—Nipsey ended up owing his masters. But before that, he had to decline plenty of deals. And he allowed himself to do that because he knew what he wanted and had a very good team around him. A lot of new artists in the game claims they want to own their masters but they don’t even have a team nor management. They don’t know what to do and how to to do it. They just heard others artists pretending to own their masters even if they don’t.

Owning your masters is about being in a position where you can say, "I don’t need anyone—I can do everything myself." Nipsey had already built himself up, which is why he was able to demand 100% ownership. But people don’t really hear that part.

How can we continue his marathon and ensure that new artists no longer get fooled by this industry?

For me, it all comes down to being well-surrounded, having someone honest and thoughtful by your side. Or, alternatively, building a team accordingly. A team that will help you make the right moves and do the necessary work to understand the ins and outs of the music industry. Because many people move through this world with their heads down, not knowing what they're doing. And the only way for that to stop is to develop your knowledge and build a solid team, with smarter people, people who know music better than you, etc. People who will truly be there to help you. It’s better than following the first advice given to you once you're in the game, which is what many signed rappers do. But that ends up being like playing with your career, nothing more, nothing less.

Like we said at the beginning of this interview, you entered the game at the very start of the decade and today, you're more than firmly established. What is your key to longevity?

I've always wanted people who listen to my discography to be able to appreciate its evolution over the years. So, it never bothered me when people said my beats were too simple or that I only use three sounds. For me, there’s nothing better than simplicity. Listeners often pay attention to the simplest things, to the point that sometimes, you can have the widest musical range in the world and still not manage to produce a single hit. So yeah I started with tracks like "Rack City" or "I'm Different" which indeed only had three sounds in it, and then you see me grow as a producer to where we get songs like "Boo’d Up", "Want Her", "Pure Water", "Ballin'", or "Needed Me". That’s a whole other version of Mustard that you never heard. And I think that’s why I’m still here: people see me evolve and change styles so often that they never know what to expect next.