Exclusive Interview

Jun 8, 2025

Produced by: Rudy Manager

Edited by: Rudy Manager & Andrej Aroch

Chrishan – “I’ve always been passionate about blending the current sound with something timeless”

In this exclusive Studio Talks interview, we sit down with Grammy-winning, multi-platinum songwriter, producer, and Makasound co-founder Chrishan—a powerhouse creative whose signature sound can be heard on hits from Chris Brown, Kanye West, Ty Dolla $ign, Drake, and many more. With a track record that spans chart-topping records and culture-shifting collaborations, Chrishan opens up about his journey, creative process, thoughts on AI in music, and offers advice to up-and-coming producers. This interview was conducted by Rudy Manager via video call on May 22, 2025.


How did you first get interested in music, and what led you to transition into songwriting and production?

My dad had a group called The Dotsons, which eventually led to the emergence of my uncle, Lyfe Jennings. That’s really where it started for me—I decided early on that I wanted to be a musician and an artist. My dad was supportive—he was like, “Alright, cool.” So I grew up practicing, listening to a lot of music, and learning everything by ear.

At first, I really wanted to be an artist. I idolized Michael Jackson growing up—I was doing all the dance moves and everything. But over time, I realized I could actually make money from music, and that shifted my mindset. I started thinking, “Maybe I’ll focus on songwriting instead.”

As songwriting began to take off for me, I felt less and less drawn to the artist side of things. Being on stage started to feel unnatural—like I was in a bubble. You’re looking down at the crowd, and they’re looking up at you like, “Dance. Sing.” It just felt surreal. I realized I much preferred being behind the scenes.

So when songwriting really started working out, it became an easy decision. I didn’t want to be an artist anymore, but I still loved creating music—so I focused on writing songs and finding other artists to bring them to life.

Who were some of your biggest influences when you were just starting out?

There were different phases when I was starting out. Initially, I grew up idolizing artists like Michael Jackson, Prince, Stevie Wonder, Gerald LeVert, and The O’Jays. I grew up on oldies.

But once I got into songwriting and started digging through crates and reading liner notes on the records I liked—the music that was current at the time—I discovered a whole new world of inspiration. That’s when I fell in love with songwriters like The-Dream, The Underdogs, James Fauntleroy, Tank, and others. They really influenced my writing style.

What was the process of improving your craft back then?

I fell in love with this story—I can’t remember where I heard it—but there was a famous group that, when they were working on an album, they completely isolated themselves from the outside world. They fine-tuned their sound during that time, and the album ended up becoming a huge success. That really stuck with me. I wanted to do something like that.

So I kind of secluded myself. I studied all the writers I loved and began crafting my own sound from their influence. That helped me stay away from chasing whatever was trending on the radio. Instead, I drew inspiration from a blend of timeless music and other influences.

Eventually, I moved to L.A. and started getting into writing sessions. That’s when I had a chance encounter with Poo Bear. He was in the studio, and I just walked in and asked, “Hey man, can I be a fly on the wall? Can I just sit here and watch you work?” That was totally out of character for me. Back then, I wasn’t the type to step out of my shell or push myself into situations like that—but I did with him.

He said, “Yeah, cool—sit in here. But if you’re in here, we’re gonna talk.” I guess he liked my energy—or whatever it was—because he ended up spending the entire session dropping gems—really breaking down his process and how he writes.

That moment changed everything for me. From that day forward, my trajectory shifted. I started writing differently. I simplified things. I stopped overcomplicating. If something didn’t need to be in a song, I left it out. Everything just clicked. No one had ever broken it down like he did.

What specific advice did he give you?

I think the biggest thing he said was that a song should be written from beginning to end—without all the extra theatrics. If you need to add 13 harmonies, effects, chops, and layers just to make it work, then it probably isn’t a strong standalone piece of art.

He explained that a song should read like one clear, cohesive line from start to finish. That really stuck with me.

In R&B especially, we tend to think of all the extras—the vocal runs, background vocals, harmonies, all the layers. Imagine the song being played on just a piano with nothing else. No harmonizers, no ad-libs—just you.

So as you’re writing, ask yourself: Can I perform this song solo and does it still sound like a hit? That perspective really shifted how I approached songwriting.

What were some of the first projects or artists you worked on, and what would you say was your first “major” placement?

My first major placement was “Wings” by Little Mix. That one kind of happened by chance—it was one of those situations where the label was piecing together different songs, and it just came together.

But where I really cut my teeth was with artists like Chief Keef and Kevin Gates. That period helped me build my foundation. From there, things progressed, and I ended up working with Adrian Marcel. I did the song “2AM” for him, and that was the one that really opened the floodgates for me. It introduced people to who I was as both a producer and a songwriter.

Funny enough, I was actually in that music video—which was wild, because that wasn’t really my thing—I still don’t usually like to be on camera. I’m much more comfortable behind the scenes. But that moment was interesting, and it definitely worked out.

What was the process of improving your craft back then?

I fell in love with this story—I can’t remember where I heard it—but there was a famous group that, when they were working on an album, they completely isolated themselves from the outside world. They fine-tuned their sound during that time, and the album ended up becoming a huge success. That really stuck with me. I wanted to do something like that.

So I kind of secluded myself. I studied all the writers I loved and began crafting my own sound from their influence. That helped me stay away from chasing whatever was trending on the radio. Instead, I drew inspiration from a blend of timeless music and other influences.

Eventually, I moved to L.A. and started getting into writing sessions. That’s when I had a chance encounter with Poo Bear. He was in the studio, and I just walked in and asked, “Hey man, can I be a fly on the wall? Can I just sit here and watch you work?” That was totally out of character for me. Back then, I wasn’t the type to step out of my shell or push myself into situations like that—but I did with him.

He said, “Yeah, cool—sit in here. But if you’re in here, we’re gonna talk.” I guess he liked my energy—or whatever it was—because he ended up spending the entire session dropping gems—really breaking down his process and how he writes.

That moment changed everything for me. From that day forward, my trajectory shifted. I started writing differently. I simplified things. I stopped overcomplicating. If something didn’t need to be in a song, I left it out. Everything just clicked. No one had ever broken it down like he did.

What specific advice did he give you?

I think the biggest thing he said was that a song should be written from beginning to end—without all the extra theatrics. If you need to add 13 harmonies, effects, chops, and layers just to make it work, then it probably isn’t a strong standalone piece of art.

He explained that a song should read like one clear, cohesive line from start to finish. That really stuck with me.

In R&B especially, we tend to think of all the extras—the vocal runs, background vocals, harmonies, all the layers. Imagine the song being played on just a piano with nothing else. No harmonizers, no ad-libs—just you.

So as you’re writing, ask yourself: Can I perform this song solo and does it still sound like a hit? That perspective really shifted how I approached songwriting.

What were some of the first projects or artists you worked on, and what would you say was your first “major” placement?

My first major placement was “Wings” by Little Mix. That one kind of happened by chance—it was one of those situations where the label was piecing together different songs, and it just came together.

But where I really cut my teeth was with artists like Chief Keef and Kevin Gates. That period helped me build my foundation. From there, things progressed, and I ended up working with Adrian Marcel. I did the song “2AM” for him, and that was the one that really opened the floodgates for me. It introduced people to who I was as both a producer and a songwriter.

Funny enough, I was actually in that music video—which was wild, because that wasn’t really my thing—I still don’t usually like to be on camera. I’m much more comfortable behind the scenes. But that moment was interesting, and it definitely worked out.

What was the process of improving your craft back then?

I fell in love with this story—I can’t remember where I heard it—but there was a famous group that, when they were working on an album, they completely isolated themselves from the outside world. They fine-tuned their sound during that time, and the album ended up becoming a huge success. That really stuck with me. I wanted to do something like that.

So I kind of secluded myself. I studied all the writers I loved and began crafting my own sound from their influence. That helped me stay away from chasing whatever was trending on the radio. Instead, I drew inspiration from a blend of timeless music and other influences.

Eventually, I moved to L.A. and started getting into writing sessions. That’s when I had a chance encounter with Poo Bear. He was in the studio, and I just walked in and asked, “Hey man, can I be a fly on the wall? Can I just sit here and watch you work?” That was totally out of character for me. Back then, I wasn’t the type to step out of my shell or push myself into situations like that—but I did with him.

He said, “Yeah, cool—sit in here. But if you’re in here, we’re gonna talk.” I guess he liked my energy—or whatever it was—because he ended up spending the entire session dropping gems—really breaking down his process and how he writes.

That moment changed everything for me. From that day forward, my trajectory shifted. I started writing differently. I simplified things. I stopped overcomplicating. If something didn’t need to be in a song, I left it out. Everything just clicked. No one had ever broken it down like he did.

What specific advice did he give you?

I think the biggest thing he said was that a song should be written from beginning to end—without all the extra theatrics. If you need to add 13 harmonies, effects, chops, and layers just to make it work, then it probably isn’t a strong standalone piece of art.

He explained that a song should read like one clear, cohesive line from start to finish. That really stuck with me.

In R&B especially, we tend to think of all the extras—the vocal runs, background vocals, harmonies, all the layers. Imagine the song being played on just a piano with nothing else. No harmonizers, no ad-libs—just you.

So as you’re writing, ask yourself: Can I perform this song solo and does it still sound like a hit? That perspective really shifted how I approached songwriting.

What were some of the first projects or artists you worked on, and what would you say was your first “major” placement?

My first major placement was “Wings” by Little Mix. That one kind of happened by chance—it was one of those situations where the label was piecing together different songs, and it just came together.

But where I really cut my teeth was with artists like Chief Keef and Kevin Gates. That period helped me build my foundation. From there, things progressed, and I ended up working with Adrian Marcel. I did the song “2AM” for him, and that was the one that really opened the floodgates for me. It introduced people to who I was as both a producer and a songwriter.

Funny enough, I was actually in that music video—which was wild, because that wasn’t really my thing—I still don’t usually like to be on camera. I’m much more comfortable behind the scenes. But that moment was interesting, and it definitely worked out.

What does your creative process usually look like? Do you treat making music like a 9-to-5 job?

There’s no strict formula to my creative process. I usually just go in and create based on how I’m feeling. One week, I might be in a country mood. The next, I could be into dance and disco. Another week, I might be channeling some eclectic soul vibes—feeling like Musiq Soulchild. So I just follow whatever inspiration hits me at the time.

That said, I do believe in treating it like a job when it comes to consistency. Showing up consistently and putting in the work keeps your creative spark sharp. It’s way more effective than just going to the studio whenever you feel like it. That kind of approach doesn’t really work long-term.

You’ve got to treat it like a craft—something that needs to be developed, just like basketball, football, or any other sport.

What music do you listen to in your free time?

It’s funny—I don’t usually listen to the kind of music I make every day. Most of the time, I’m listening to folk, Americana, and country. That’s the kind of music I surround myself with day to day.

Even though I primarily make rap and hip-hop—which comes naturally, since it’s been part of my life from the beginning—it’s not what I usually have in rotation.

My daily listening is more like Bon Iver, Ben Howard, The Oh Hellos, Ray LaMontagne… artists like that.

Do you think it’s important for producers to listen to other genres—and not box themselves into one style?

Yeah. A lot of my own influence actually comes from folk records—especially the melodies. I think I saw Pharrell say something similar: that folk music is kind of the foundation. The hum came before lyrics—even back in caveman days, melody came first.

Folk music really represents music in its purest form. It’s all about melody—something you can follow and feel. That influence really shows up when I cross over into R&B. The melodies and nuances I hear and create often come from that folk background.

Artists like Imogen Heap, for example—she’s incredible. A lot of overseas artists have a completely different approach to songwriting. Their melodic structures are different, and when you listen to that kind of music, it opens up your ears. You start hearing things differently—and that expands what you can bring into your own sound here in the States.

In your opinion, what makes a great R&B hook?

Honestly, it just has to feel right. I could give you the textbook answer—talk about AABA structure and all that—but at the end of the day, it’s really about giving the beat what it needs—if you’re writing to the production first.

A great hook starts with a strong concept, but it’s really about the overall feeling and the melody. You need some kind of ear candy—something memorable. Even if it’s just a two-bar melody—if someone can walk out of the room and still hum it, you know you’ve got something.

That one memorable piece can be your anchor. Even if you need to go back and rewrite parts, you can build around that solid idea and tighten everything else from there.

You worked extensively on the Vultures 1 and 2 albums. Can you share any memorable moments from working on those records?

We reworked that album over and over, several times. I was involved in the creative process from beginning to end.

One thing I can say is that Ty brought the project to me at a time when I was honestly feeling a bit disconnected from music. I had been working at the highest level for six or seven years, and I hit a point where I felt like I was at a ceiling. Nothing seemed to be changing sonically in the music scene. No one was really taking risks. And even though I was trying to push boundaries, it was just gonna burn me out. I started thinking about stepping back, focusing on other things, and not boxing myself into music.

Then Ty came to me with this project and said, “Be as creative as you want. Go crazy. Send me the wackiest ideas, even just a simple voice note—we’ll flip it into 13 different songs and build from there.”

I’d never worked like that before. Their process is really unique to their camp. We were literally on iMessage, live-creating songs by sending pieces back and forth. If you listen to Vultures 1 and 2, you’ll notice that many of the songs have 15 different parts. That’s how we built them—layer by layer, passing those parts around and stacking them into one cohesive song.

Being that free creatively re-inspired me. And I’ve been running with that energy ever since.

What’s your opinion on the use of AI in music production?

I like AI—I think it has some really useful applications. For example, using AI to restore vocals for artists is something I support. I think I saw that Beanie Sigel was using AI to help restore his voice. I like applications like that.

Where I draw the line is when AI is used to recreate the voices of artists who are no longer here—especially without their consent. I don’t like the idea of using someone like Tupac’s voice on a song. That’s not his art, his flow, or his work of art. I don’t think you should do art a disservice with AI.

But there are definitely areas where it makes sense.

Is there one specific project that is especially close to your heart—for whatever reason?

I think my favorite recent song is “Dangerous” by Meek Mill and PnB Rock—rest in peace to PnB. That one really stands out to me because of what it did for hip-hop music. Even now, people are still using the same drums and cadence—it’s literally been ripped straight from that track. At the time it came out, there was nothing like it on the radio.

What made it special for me is that I’ve always been passionate about blending the current sound with something timeless. On “Dangerous,” I got to play real keys and real guitar, like something you’d hear from The Gap Band. I was able to bring that influence into the record.

It actually traces back to when I worked on “2AM” by Adrian Marcel. Back then, people were used to that Bay Area, DJ Mustard-type sound—three keys, a snap, and a kick. But when the hook dropped on “2AM,” I layered real keys into the background. It gave the song more dimension—something people didn’t even know they needed. It broadened the sonic palette, gave it some ear candy, and tapped into a nostalgia for a past era.

I love using that kind of subconscious science in music—getting people to like something they didn’t even realize they liked. I think that’s the only way we can truly evolve the culture of music: by being creative in that way.

Where do you see music going now?

I think it’s becoming more musical. With projects like SZA’s, and especially Leon Thomas’s—I love his project—you can really hear that shift happening. It’s evolving the average listener’s ear—and honestly, it’s about time.

We couldn’t keep getting by with two-bar chord progression loops running through entire songs. We need real musicality again. We need changes. We need bridges. We need variety. So I’m really glad to see that starting to come back around.

If you were starting your music journey today in 2025, what advice would you give your younger self?

I’d tell myself, you don’t know everything. Even if it feels like you do—especially when you’re stuck in your own bubble. When you’re at home with your computer, diving deep into your own world, it’s easy to think you’ve got it all figured out. You’re learning, absorbing information—but while that’s happening, the world is still moving forward. That knowledge can become outdated without you even realizing it.

So when you finally step into the real world thinking you’re fully prepared, things might have already changed. That disconnect was tough to deal with when I was younger. I had a lot of ego because of it. I thought, If I’m talented, people will recognize it, respect it—and that alone will take me to the next level.

But talent alone isn’t enough. There’s something powerful about knowing what you don’t know—and having the humility to walk into a room ready to learn. Just being there to soak things in, to be a fly on the wall. I’ve heard stories about Michael Jackson doing that with Stevie Wonder—just sitting in the room, soaking up everything.

There’s always something to learn—that’s the biggest piece of advice I’d give my younger self.

You co-founded Makasound with Hitmaka. What’s the vision for the company, and what plans do you have for the near future?

I see Makasound becoming one of the biggest boutique labels and publishing companies in the music industry over the next five to ten years. I really admire how companies like QC, LVRN, and TDE operate—their artists are also songwriters, and they strike that perfect balance between a song-first and an artist-first mentality. That’s the kind of model we’re building toward.

We’ve already got some great people on our roster and a solid proof of concept. Now it’s just about scaling—growing while staying true to our vision. And that’s exactly what we’re doing.

What’s one key piece of business advice you’d give to up-and-coming songwriters or producers?

Make sure your records are registered properly. A lot of money gets left on the table simply because songs aren’t registered correctly. And if you don’t claim that money within a certain time frame, it gets put back into the pot and ends up being dispersed to someone else.

So it’s crucial to track your records and ensure they’re registered correctly.

What plans do you have for the rest of the year?

Honestly, just to keep killing it like we have been. We’re doing the same work—just on a bigger scale now. One of my main goals is to start putting those hit records on our own artists. We’ve spent a lot of time building up artists for other labels, but we haven’t really had that same level of representation for ourselves.

Now, we finally have that opportunity, and I’m excited about the future. Trajectory-wise, we’re in a spaceship—we’re out of here.

Follow Chrishan on Instagram: @princechrishan

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