DISPOSABLE MUSIC: INSIGHT
AAMIR YAQUB ON ORIGINALITY
& THE ENDLESS FLOW OF MUSIC
The Grammy award-winning producer, engineer and songwriter reflects on finding depth and purpose in an ocean of sound.
I’m flicking through records inside Stranger Than Paradise, the small vinyl shop tucked inside Mare Street Market - when Sven Wunder’s Windward starts playing through the speakers. A few minutes later, Aamir Yaqub arrives. We take a slow lap around the shop, pause over a few sleeves, before heading out to the garden for coffee. After an hour of catching up, talk drifts - naturally - into music.
A Grammy award-winning producer, engineer and songwriter with roots in East London, Aamir has spent more than a decade shaping songs that balance experimentation and precision, working with global names and new voices alike. As the flood of new music continues to rise, he reflects on what originality means today, how producers navigate an oversaturated landscape, and why the need to create never really fades.
THE FIRST DROP
We start talking about what life in the studio looks like these days and what’s been inspiring him lately.
Aamir is based out of his project studio in Hackney, where he’s been producing and engineering for over twelve years. “I’ve been doing this professionally for about twelve years, but I’ve been making music since I was young,” he says. “This year’s been great, I’ve had some amazing sessions across London, even with a few household names. But what I’m really loving is working closely with independent artists, helping them develop, writing with them, shaping their sound. That’s where the magic is for me.”
He laughs when I ask about inspiration. “My dating life - it’s terrible,” he says, shaking his head. “But honestly, there’s always inspiration in that stuff.” Then, as we drift into the artists currently on rotation, his energy lifts. “I’ve been listening to a lot of Leon Thomas lately - I love him,” he says. “And Dijon, Mk.gee, they’re incredible. But I still go back to my people: Stevie Wonder, Prince, Michael Jackson. Those artists remind me what timeless actually sounds like.”
Live music, too, keeps him fuelled. “I saw Stevie in the summer - he still sounds exactly like himself. And I finally caught Kendrick. Man, those pyrotechnics were wild,” he laughs. “I love it! The energy, the visuals, how an artist can express themselves in so many ways.”
Aamir first picked up the violin at seven, playing in a youth orchestra before discovering Western music in his teens. “I had a friend who told me I had a deep voice and got me into a harmony group,” he recalls. “That’s where I started to really explore my own sound.”
He grins when the conversation turns to his first attempt at songwriting. “The first song I ever wrote was called Bleeding Ears,” he says. “The concept was literally that my ears were bleeding from not hearing someone’s voice - absolute trash.”
Not long after came Wasting Time, his first proper track, a reflection of his early obsession with hip-hop and R&B. “That’s when I realised I loved building the song more than performing it,” he says. “I wasn’t meant to be the artist out front; I was better at shaping things from behind the scenes.”
Study i: Movement – Music & Material
DISPOSABLE OR TIMELESS?
When I ask whether music has become more disposable, Aamir pauses for a moment before replying.
“Music and consumerism got married,” he says. “Our attention spans shortened, and social media was a big part of that.”
He calls today’s quick-fire culture “microwave music”, songs cooked fast and forgotten faster. “But,” he adds, “it’s two sides of the same coin. The fact that anyone can make and release music now - that’s beautiful. We’ve got independence as creators. The downside is that it also means there’s a lot more noise.”
He leans back, thoughtful. “To me, that’s where creativity goes to die, when you start repeating what worked last time. That’s when art stops developing.”
"Authenticity is the antidote to disposability. It’s what creates longevity.”
For Aamir, the antidote is authenticity. “When Rihanna came around, they created nine other Rihannas after her. Where are they now?” he says, smiling. “You can’t replicate originality. The best artists - Prince, Beyoncé, Kendrick - they did it first, and they did it authentically. That’s why you can’t copy them. Authenticity is the antidote to disposability. It’s what creates longevity.”
He speaks about artists like Snoh Aalegra and Victoria Monét, whose journeys took over a decade before mainstream recognition. “They took the long road,” he says. “But the long road gives you depth. When you choose an artist, you’re choosing a friend - someone whose story you want to follow.”
Aamir believes timelessness is rooted in that same sense of truth. “Someone said talent is being able to do something not many others can do, but genius is being able to see something no one else can see. Talent can be disposable, but genius is timeless.”
He laughs softly. “That’s why people are still dancing to Thriller every Halloween. Michael Jackson saw something no one else did.”
THE PRODUCER'S BALANCING ACT
By now we’re deep into the question of originality - where it sits in an age that constantly re-cycles itself. Aamir doesn’t sound cynical, just realistic.
“Currently, because of the era that we live in, I think originality isn’t original anymore,” he says. “I grew up on music that was based on samples, early hip hop, all of that. Even Kanye - he sampled big songs, but he was seeing things other people didn’t see, hearing things other people didn’t hear. That’s what made him a genius, right? But now it’s more corporate. People are like, cool, let’s take a big song from the ’90s, flip it, and cash in because nostalgia sells.”
He laughs. “Yesterday I was listening to SWV and they sum up what R&B is for me. Their song Rain is one of the most original samples I’ve ever heard. It takes Jaco Pastorius’ Portrait of Tracy, but not directly - just the melody. It’s literally a solo bass record. And I thought, what a great idea. Who’s listening to solo bass music anymore? No one. Because we’re hearing the same song chopped up over and over again.”
That’s where, he says, the real challenge lies. “People aren’t going on their own journeys to discover things. They’re thinking, what’s the easiest thing I can grab that’ll just go. I’m not saying don’t sample, but don’t be obvious. Go for the less obvious things. Be inspired, take elements from what you love and put your own spin on it. That’s how you attract people. There’s this documentary called Everything Is a Remix, and I love it. Because it’s true - everything is. But it’s about how you remix it that matters.”
He pauses, thoughtful now. “It’s impossible not to be influenced by what’s around you. You just have to find that balance - to be inspired, but still be you. And for me, that’s the difference between being talented and being timeless.”
Still, he doesn’t believe we’re running out of ideas. “We’ve only had about a hundred years of recorded music,” he says. “There are infinite combinations still to explore. New sounds, new voices, new perspectives. There’s so much world left.”
He points to the rise of Afrobeats and Amapiano as proof that untapped rhythms and cultures keep reshaping global sound. “When that wave came, it changed everything. There’s still so much more to discover.”
Study ii: Wavelength – Sound & Water
ENDLESS OCEAN
When the conversation turns to the overwhelming amount of music that now exists - hundreds of millions of songs on streaming platforms, with thousands added every day, Aamir smiles. “It’s not something I think about much when I’m in the studio,” he says, “but I do sometimes think: every record is a record of time.”
He compares it to looking up at the stars. “It’s like walking into the countryside at night and realising how small you are. You can feel tiny next to that vastness. But for me, that’s not depressing - it’s humbling.”
“Even though we’re each a drop, we’re also part of the ocean.”
He recalls a surreal moment from years ago: “I’d done a remix for an American artist when I was coming out of uni. Fifteen years later, someone in Japan tagged me in a video of them dancing to it. I’d forgotten it even existed,” he says, laughing. “But it reminded me that music travels. You make something, and it goes out there. It becomes a drop in that ocean.”
For Aamir, that’s the beauty of it all. “Even though we’re each a drop, we’re also part of the ocean,” he says. “That’s Rumi, actually - we’re not separate from it. The ocean is us.”
He looks up, as if picturing it. “That’s why I keep creating. Every song is a moment in time. Whether ten people hear it or ten million, it exists - and that’s enough.”
FUTURE TIDES
As our conversation drifts towards what lies ahead, Aamir mentions a song that’s stayed with him - Die Empty, from Chasing Goosebumps, a collaborative album created during DJ Jazzy Jeff’s Playlist Retreat and featuring Glenn Lewis on vocals.
“The lyrics stuck with me,” Aamir recalls. “He said: ‘Die empty.’ Meaning pour everything out while you can. Don’t hold on to your ideas. Don’t wait for the perfect moment. Give it all away.”
He pauses, letting the thought hang in the air for a moment. “That really hit me,” he says. “Because it’s true - you don’t know how long you’ve got. So why keep anything in? Every sound, every idea, every bit of energy you have… get it out into the world.”
He leans back, reflective. “That’s what keeps me going. Whether a song reaches a million people or just one, I want to know I gave everything I had. Nothing left in the tank. That’s what it means to die empty.”
MORE ABOUT AAMIR YAQUB
> Website
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