What went down at Fête de la Musique

Words by Passion Deez | Photography by SPYDERAt a time when so much music feels engineered for algorithms, Reuben Aziz is building something far more difficult: a world people can emotionally live inside. Raised in Southampton, the 23-year-old artist has quietly built a world of his own — one shaped by emotional honesty, DIY creativity and a refusal to be boxed into genre. His latest mixtape mind the gap feels less like a sophomore mixtape and more like a statement of intent: a project that bridges vulnerability and ambition, faith and self-expression, melody and chaos. Having originally pursued basketball at a serious level before pivoting fully into music, Reuben approaches his artistry with the mindset of an athlete: disciplined, obsessive and constantly evolving. Over the past three years, he has steadily developed a sound that fuses pitched-up melodic vocals, hyperpop textures, alternative R&B and hard-hitting hip-hop production — often self-produced from his bedroom studio. Tracks like “shotgun,” which quickly gained traction online and earned co-signs from artists including Potter Payper and 4batz, have positioned him at the forefront of a new generation of UK artists creating emotionally raw music without sacrificing experimentation or edge. But beyond the viral moments and growing industry attention, mind the gap is rooted in something deeper. Throughout our conversation, Reuben speaks openly about masculinity, vulnerability, faith, purpose and the pressure of modern life. Where earlier music came from sadness and emotional confusion, this new chapter reflects a clearer sense of self — one grounded in his relationship with God and his desire to make music that genuinely uplifts people. Whether discussing the emotional complexity of modern relationships, building an intimate Discord community with fans, or touring Europe while still finding ways to stay spiritually grounded, Reuben carries himself with a level of self-awareness that feels increasingly rare in contemporary music culture.From my research, it seems like you were originally on a serious basketball journey before music became your focus. Looking back, what did that sport teach you that still applies to your music career?Discipline and consistency, for sure. The more I grow in music, the more I realise you have to treat it like a sport. Even though it’s creative, if you want longevity, you have to keep going no matter what’s happening around you. You have to keep creating, whether things are going well or not. Basketball taught me that mindset. It’s about constantly getting shots up, for lack of a better term.So when you talk about discipline, you mean talent alone isn’t enough — it’s really about putting the work in every day?Exactly. If you truly love something, you’re willing to work at it. Anyone who thinks talent alone is enough probably doesn’t love it deeply enough. Greatness comes from pushing yourself consistently. That doesn’t mean making ten songs every session, but it does mean trying to move the needle creatively every time. That’s what I tried to do with this project sonically.Let’s talk about the new project, Mind the Gap. What “gap” are you trying to bridge here?There are a few different gaps in my life that I’m trying to bridge — relationships, my relationship with God, my relationship with music and even my relationship with ambition. There’s also confidence in the title. I feel like I’ve reached a level where there’s a gap between certain people and me in the scene. This project is me showing that I’m ready to fully commit myself to this for the long run.The title also references the UK transport system, which makes it symbolic too. It feels like a journey — making sure you get off at the right stops in life.Exactly. Sonically, I wanted it to feel very London too. Even though people might label me as R&B, I wanted to break that genre barrier. A lot of the production was inspired by the UK underground scene and what’s happening culturally right now. I wanted to put my own stamp on it because I think what’s happening in the UK musically is really special.When I was describing your music to our music director, I genuinely struggled to define it. I called it something like “hyperpop, hyphy alt-rap, futuristic R&B.” It feels new.That’s important to me. If I hear a new artist and they just sound like someone I already know, I struggle to buy into it because I can just go listen to the original. If someone makes R&B that sounds exactly like early 2000s R&B, I’d rather just listen to Aaliyah or Boyz II Men. I want to make something people can’t get anywhere else.Your mixtape jumps across multiple sounds — R&B, hyperpop, and alternative music. Are you consciously trying to create something new?A bit of both. I’m chasing emotion, but production is what creates the atmosphere for those emotions to exist. When I’m thinking sonically, I’m not thinking about genres. I’m asking myself: “How can I make something that hasn’t been made before?” I started as a rapper, so even when I’m making these more melodic songs, the beats still come from a hip-hop mindset — the drums, the 808s, the energy. Everything else layered on top is just whatever the music needs. I genuinely think we don’t have enough artists trying to push R&B forward right now.Your music feels emotional, but also very controlled and intentional. What’s your creative process like? Is recording therapeutic for you?It’s definitely therapeutic. The first song I made for the project was actually the final track, “We’ll Get Married.” After that came “Shotgun,” and once I had those songs, I understood the world I wanted to build sonically. I’m intentional about the sound and direction of the project as a whole, but when it comes to writing, I try to be as emotionally vulnerable as possible. Especially as a man, I think there’s a lack of male singers speaking openly from that space. That’s something I really miss in music.“shotgun” has been everywhere lately. Can you talk about the songwriting process behind that record?It definitely gave me confidence and confirmed the direction I needed to take with this project. I made it at home — I produce everything in my room. I already knew what genres and influences I wanted to blend together for the track. Once I made the beat, I knew the lyrics had to hit emotionally. I went for a walk and wrote the opening lines there. I was being more intentional rather than just casually making another song.“shotgun” is a really beautiful love song — a modern take on romance. What inspired the lyrics?I think love today is complicated. My generation has a strange relationship with it — things can feel toxic and emotionally dishonest sometimes. Personally, I’ve always had a more wholesome or even “Disney” view of love. I think my music reflects me trying to navigate what that kind of love looks like in modern life.I think that honesty is exactly why your music resonates. A lot of people are scared to express what they truly want emotionally because nobody wants to look vulnerable anymore.Especially for men, there’s still stigma around vulnerability. It feels like people think you either have to be completely obsessed with someone or completely detached and reckless. But there’s a healthy middle ground between those extremes.A lot of young artists emotionally exhaust themselves chasing attention. How do you protect your peace while remaining vulnerable in your music?Religion is really important to me. Reading the Bible, going to church, speaking to my friends from church — all of that keeps me grounded. Social media makes comparison very easy, and that can distort how you see yourself. My relationship with God gives me humility and perspective. Without that, I’d probably be a lot more all over the place mentally.Has faith changed how you approach success and ambition?Definitely. There’s a song on the tape called “Ego Death,” and that’s a huge part of my journey. As I’ve grown closer to God, I’ve realised how much pride needs to die inside me. I’ve had to understand that this isn’t just about me. It’s about the music, about making people feel heard, feel joy, feel connection. Ironically, that mindset also pushes me to work even harder because I want the work to live up to that purpose.You’ve built a Discord community where you speak to fans daily. Was that an intentional move away from the superficiality of social media?Definitely. Discord has become a safe space — not just for me, but for the people in there too. Some of them have become real friends with each other. Social media can feel very surface-level. Discord creates intimacy around the music. I can play unreleased songs, get honest feedback and actually have conversations. I don’t even really think of them as “fans.” That word feels too distant. . Especially now, with AI and everything becoming more digital, people are craving physical experiences again — live shows, vinyl, CDs, real talent, real connection.You recently announced a train pop-up show. It’s such a DIY concept. What can people expect?We found this old underground train station-type location and we’re just going to perform there. I’ll bring my guitar, my friend’s DJing and we’ll play songs from the tape and older material too. I think the location helps build the world of Mind the Gap. I want everything around the project to feel intentional — not just the music itself. I don’t want to be lazy with any of this. I want people to feel like they’re stepping into a real world.You’ve also been touring around the UK and Europe with Artemas recently. What was that experience like?It was crazy. One of the most interesting things was performing for audiences who didn’t necessarily speak English, but still connected emotionally to the music. There were definitely moments where people didn’t know who I was yet, so I had to win them over. But songs like “Magic” always connected instantly.That tour taught me a lot about performing and about the importance of having a proper live setup. Artemas’ band was incredible and it made me realise how important a strong team is for building a show properly.There’s such a DIY spirit throughout your journey — bedroom production, self-built communities, self-produced records. Does that independence strengthen your creative identity?Definitely. For a long time, I thought working alone was the only way to create. But now that this tape is finished, I’ve realised I actually want to collaborate more moving forward. I needed these first two tapes to fully prove my own vision to myself and to the world. Now I feel ready to open things up and work with other producers and artists. I’m excited for what comes next.You recently spent time in New York and Atlanta too. What were you working on over there?We did On The Radar, which I’m excited about, and another live session called Red Couch with a full band setup. Because this project is so alternative and processed sonically, I also want people to hear the raw musicality behind it — the live instruments, my natural singing voice, all of that. Outside of that, we were mostly recording new music.Reuben Aziz's new mixtape "mind the gap" is out now! 

Words by Passion Deez | Photography by Louis Oomes and Luca Wehneskruzer does not make music that feels accidental. Even when he describes his creative process as organic, there is a clear emotional world running through everything he creates: nostalgic synths inspired by childhood memories, cinematic songwriting rooted in real experiences, and huge melodic hooks designed to be screamed back in crowded venues. Born in Mogadishu and raised in the Netherlands, the Somali-Dutch artist has quietly become one of the most exciting new voices emerging from the Dutch alternative scene, building a sound that sits somewhere between hip-hop, pop, rock and emotional rap music without fully belonging to any of them.PhoHis latest project, VOORBIJ DE ZON (Beyond the Sun), feels like the clearest expression of that vision so far. Built alongside close collaborators and friends, the album blends raw vulnerability with widescreen ambition, pulling influence from Somali music, Kanye West, Kid Cudi, 80s synth music and films like Interstellar. But underneath the experimentation is something deeply personal. kruzer speaks about music less like entertainment and more like documentation — every song capturing a specific moment, relationship or emotional state in his life.You’ve been making music for quite a long time already, but this feels like the beginning of a new chapter creatively. Can you take us back to the start a little bit? What first made you want to become an artist?I started making music when I was around 17, around 2017. I’d always been curious about music and really fascinated by it. Then one of my friends started making music himself, so I asked him if he could teach me how to do it. At first, I was just downloading beats from YouTube, writing songs in my room and going to the engineers to record them. That was really the beginning. Eventually, I started meeting producers and building from there, but honestly, I still hadn’t found my sound yet.Around 2019, I started experimenting much more seriously and trying to figure out what I actually wanted my music to feel like emotionally. That was around the time I met a producer called Big Cam in Rotterdam, and through working with him, I really started shaping my sound. From the beginning, I always wanted to make what I call “stadium status music.” Music that feels emotional but also massive — the kind of music people can sing together live.That ambition is interesting because your music does feel very timeless and echoes the past through its references to 80s synth-heavy music, even when it’s vulnerable. Where does that sound come from?A lot of it comes from my upbringing. I was born in Mogadishu, Somalia, and when we lived in a refugee camp, my mom used to play a lot of Somali music, but also a lot of 80s music. That’s where my love for synths and nostalgic melodies really comes from. Then later, I became obsessed with Kanye West and Kid Cudi. Those are probably my biggest inspirations musically. Especially albums like 808s & Heartbreak and Man on the Moon: The End of Day. I love music that feels emotional and cinematic at the same time.The producer I worked with on VOORBIJ DE ZON, Strayed Saint, is also a huge Kanye fan, so we both wanted the album to feel nostalgic, emotional and immersive. I kept telling him, “This album needs to hit people in the heart.”The project definitely feels cinematic. If VOORBIJ DE ZON was a movie, what would it be?Interstellar. During the time we were making the album, I rewatched Interstellar again, and it really affected me emotionally. One of the hooks on the project was literally inspired by the movie. It’s my favourite film ever. The atmosphere, the emotion, the feeling of space and loneliness and hope — all of that influenced the music a lot.Did you know from the beginning that VOORBIJ DE ZON was going to become a full album?Not at all. It actually started as a small EP with maybe four songs. But we kept making more music and realised we had too much material we loved. At one point, Straight Saint literally looked at me and said, “Why aren’t we just making this an album?” So honestly, the album happened naturally. Every song was worked on heavily, too. Some tracks probably have fifty versions. We were really obsessed over details.And everybody involved in the project is somebody I’m genuinely close with in real life. Nothing was random. GRGY jumped onto one of the songs naturally during the process and made it way better. Vjeze Fur also happened almost accidentally. Everything about the album came together organically.That word keeps coming up when you speak, "organic".Because that’s genuinely how everything in my career has happened. Nothing was forced. Even the relationships I built around music happened naturally.You’ve mentioned before that Ray Fuego played an important role in your development creatively.Definitely. Around the time I was still figuring out my sound, Ray really took me under his wing creatively for a couple of years. He gave me advice, helped me think differently and pushed me creatively. I’m super grateful to him for that.A lot of my connection with the wider SMIB world also happened naturally because my best friend, Bokoedro, already knew people from there. I started going to shows and parties with him, and eventually we all became friends naturally.You also worked with BNYX pretty early on, before he became the huge producer he is now.Yeah, this was around 2019. I was in the studio with a producer friend who had some loops from BNYX. I heard one and immediately asked, “Who made this sample? This is crazy.” Then I checked his work and saw he’d already worked with people like Lancey Foux and Ty Dolla $ign. So I just DM’d him directly and told him I had a song using one of his loops. He replied within fifteen minutes and from there we just stayed connected. We still talk now.Your previous project Elke Koning Heeft Pijn (Every King Has Pain) felt much darker emotionally. Looking back now, what does that project represent to you?That project means a lot to me because at that time, I didn’t really have the resources or people around me that I have now. I didn’t have proper engineers or proper setups. Everything was raw. I was also really depressed during that period in my life.The title came from this idea that everybody is hurting in some way underneath the surface. People only see the bigger picture or the outside image, but they never really know what someone is carrying internally. So for me, the project was about understanding that pain exists in everybody’s life and that you can’t judge people based only on appearances.Your music feels very autobiographical too. Almost like every song documents a specific memory or emotional state.Because every song really is based on real life. My music is basically my diary. Even my biggest song, “Me hart is op,” is literally about my love life. Every track captures a specific moment in my life, so when I listen back to older songs, it feels like revisiting old chapters of myself.There still aren’t many Somali artists visible in alternative music spaces like this. What has that experience been like for you?At first, it felt strange because I wondered if I was the only Somali-Dutch artist making this kind of music. But eventually, I made peace with it. Now I actually hope I can become an example for younger Somali kids so they feel freer creatively. I think it’s important to represent where you come from and not hide it.I heard you sampled one of your mother’s favourite song on your EP Rezurk as well.Yeah. I always wanted to sample that song. The lyrics are very poetic in Somali so it’s difficult to translate properly, but it’s basically about a boy chasing his vision. When I told my mom I used it in the album, she was really happy because she felt like I was honouring my roots.Is there anything creative you still want to explore further?I’m already working on the next album, actually. This next project is going to be way more festival-focused. I want to make music that people can scream together live. I also want to lean further into rock & synth pop influences. Artists like David Bowie and Pet Shop Boys inspire me creatively a lot.You’ve already received support from artists like Ronnie Flex, Ray Fuego and Vjeze Fur pretty early in your journey. What do those co-signs mean to you?It reassures me that I’m on the right path. All those artists make completely different kinds of music, so the fact they all connect with what I’m doing makes me feel like maybe I’m creating something unique. What becomes clear when speaking to kruzer is that his music is less about genre and more about feeling. Every project feels carefully constructed emotionally, even when he insists much of it happened accidentally. Beneath the synth-heavy production, huge hooks and alternative textures is someone trying to document his life honestly while building something larger than himself at the same time. And maybe that is what makes VOORBIJ DE ZON resonate so strongly. It does not sound like an artist chasing trends or trying to fit neatly into a scene. Not because it tries to sound like the future, but because it sounds like someone becoming fully comfortable with who they already are. 

This issue highlights Wiley, Universally hailed as “the Godfather  of Grime”, the London-born MC and producer Wiley has played a  massively influential role in bringing the UK Grime movement to a  worldwide stage throughout his prolific and storied career marked  by the extreme highs and lows of violence, controversy, and global  stardom.Emerging from London’s culture of pirate radio stations and  garage music during the early 2000’s, Wiley followed in the  footsteps of his father - a reggae musician who introduced him  to hip-hop at a young age - and began producing instrumentals  mixing the regional influences of dancehall and jungle music,  adding verses to his tracks with a wide variety of collaborators  including members of his original grime crew Roll Deep, formed in  2001.As grime became a global phenomenon during the 2010’s, Wiley  remained at the forefront of the genre, pushing the movement  forward through his innovative work ethic and a consistent ethos  of collaboration. Today, his enduring legacy is present within the  sound he helped pioneer, becoming a foundational influence on a  new generation of stars across the scope of UK rap and drill music.This issue also highlights M Huncho, Bel Cobain, AJ Tracey, TOX DDS, Amy  Leung, Dynamite, Victory Lap Radio, D Double E, Potter Payper, Charlie Birch,  Karim B, E Pellici, Tim & Barry. Living Proof, the London Issue is available now at Patta London.

Oscar #worldpeace returns with visuals for “Chessboard Freestyle” a sharp, cinematic cut from one of the UK’s most distinctive creative voices. A long-time collaborator of Mike Skinner, Ragz Originale and benji flow, Oscar brings the same raw intimacy and off-centre storytelling that’s made his visual language instantly recognisable across the underground and beyond.“Chessboard Freestyle” moves like a late-night thought spiral: calculated, restless and unpredictable. Every frame feels intentional; balancing tension, stillness and instinct with the precision of a player always thinking three moves ahead.  

Born in Amsterdam to Indian parents and raised between Bollywood soundtracks, Qawwali, Dutch hip-hop and the soundsystem culture of her Moroccan and Turkish neighbourhood, Jyoty’s relationship with music has always been shaped by movement between worlds. In this episode of The Listening Room, the DJ and broadcaster traces the moments that formed her musically — from hearing Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan in her mother’s living room and Bhangra at family weddings, to discovering Dutch rap, electronic music and eventually finding herself inside the sweaty basement of Dance Tunnel, the legendary Amsterdam club that helped shape her understanding of dance music culture.

The A1 Denim Polo Tour continues with Stop 2 landing in Amsterdam this Saturday, 23/05/26 from 11AM. Join us at Patta Amsterdam for a day celebrating classic sportswear, community, and mainline essentials. We’ll be giving away free Polos on a first come, first served basis while stocks last, so make sure to arrive early. Alongside the giveaway, a selection of Mainline A1 Denim will be available to purchase in-store throughout the day.

To celebrate a successful Bijlmer Run, and the 5th year anniversary of the event - the Patta Running Team hosted the first offical Bijlmer Run afterparty as seen by Mazen El Majdoubi. A winners and a birthday party in one, soundtracked by Stevie Tune, Jay B, AK Soundsystem, Hernsy and Lil' Vic. 

The expansion of rap music during the 1990s into the mid 2000s is widely regarded as a defining period in the development of rap music, often described as its “golden era” due to the scale of innovation and originality achieved during this time. The rise of regional styles from Brooklyn, New York to Long Beach, California gave different cities their own sound and point of view, moving rap beyond a single center and creating a genre that was relatable to people from urban environments all over the world. From groups like the Wu-Tang Clan, M.O.P, The Lox and Dipset to artists like Nas, Shyne, DMX and DJ Kay Slay; Clay Patrick McBride’s unique time spent with the artists during a developmental phase in their careers has been collected in “Triumph: Icons of Rap”. Showcasing nearly two decades of photographs of the most iconic rappers earlier in their lives.Living Proof has worked with Clay Patrick McBride to release a book on photographs documenting the golden era of rap’s defining artists during the creation of their most pivotal works, drawn from sessions Clay spent with the artists in their early years and magazine campaigns from the era’s best. The book includes test polaroids, original contact sheets and never before seen collages from the artists personal scrap book; as well hand written thank you letters from the talent. Living Proof - Triumph available now at Patta London.

A new frequency, RADIO Z. Ray Fuego and Dio are taking over with a pirate broadcast in the form of an album. Produced by Kabul $lim. RADIO Z is already planned to change Lowlands forever, but before that, they will have their one and only performance in Amsterdam.   25th of June, Skatecafe - don't miss out and get you tickets here.

Words: David Kane, originally published in Patta Magazine Volume 6Isimeme “Easy” Otabor selects Nas’ timeless classic as his ‘cover story’, a long-running collaborative column between Wax Poetics and Patta. Illmatic is a fitting first in the series to feature in Patta Magazine.At this point, there’s little we can say about Nas’ Illmatic that hasn’t already been said. Nasir bin Olu Dara Jones aka Nasty Nas, aka Escobar, was aged just 20 when he released his musical masterpiece to an unsuspecting world with a little help from his producer friends — DJ Premier, L.E.S., Pete Rock, Q-Tip, and Large Professor (who must be kicking himself for turning down the opportunity to executive produce the record) — which has gone on to transform hip-hop, modern music and the wider pop culture canon.  Yet despite more than 30 years of lore-building, there are still some lesser-known aspects of the album and the greater cultural fabric it is woven into — and the millions of people's stories it continues to soundtrack.Otabor is a Chicago-born curator and gallerist whose work bridges contemporary art, fashion, and community-forward programming. “Born and raised in Hazel Crest in the south suburbs. My parents are both from Nigeria — first generation — they came here in their early twenties and tried their best to make a way for us. I started in sneakers, working at all the sneaker stores as soon as I could get a work permit. “I went to school for fashion, worked at RSVP Gallery with Don C and Virgil (Abloh), and learned by doing whatever needed to be done. That led to (the clothing brand) Infinite Archives and then Anthony Gallery, named after my dad,” he explains over a call from Florida. He’s often on the move, listing off Amsterdam (where he recently launched the second Anthony Gallery), Berlin, London, and Tokyo as recent destinations. Something of a Japanophile, Easy’s initial touchpoints into art came through anime like Akira, Fist of the North Star, and then Takashi Murakami, thanks to his work on the cover art for fellow Chicagoan Kanye West’s Graduation album. Easy credits his brother Ade for his omnivorous approach to culture. “He introduced me to Illmatic — really, all the music I know came through him. I was lucky to have a brother who knew what was happening, who was open to different sounds and always tuned into what was next.” The Illmatic cover operates as a kind of cultural Rorschach — the same image, endlessly reinterpreted. For some, it’s a portrait of lost innocence; for others, a map of inevitability, where place and identity are already fused. What you see says as much about you as it does about Nas.“Honestly, whenever I think of Illmatic, I think of that cover first. There’s a quote I can’t fully remember, but it’s about true genius being found in simplicity. You see where Nas grew up, merged with a childhood photo, those piercing eyes — but also this sense of knowing what he was about to do. Even the background, driving through his neighborhood, all comes together. It’s a perfect blend. You feel like you see yourself in it. No matter where you’re from, you can relate to that feeling of reflecting on your past while being ready for the future, and the present.”The 30th anniversary of Illmatic in 2024 coincided with a global tour, a 7” boxset release, and the publication of a cluster of new and archived content celebrating the record, including a musty interview recording with Nas’ father. In one video, Olu Dara, a successful jazz musician in his own right, recalled the moment the photo was taken. It was when he returned to the States after a long tour in Europe, found Nas and his brother in Queensbridge, who both excitedly ran towards him.  Olu said he saw it in Nas’s eye — “his mind was saying, wow, what a world.” In addition to Olu — who in the same recording mentions a “man with a camera” rather than explicitly claiming to have taken the photo himself, as is popular belief — the artwork was part of a cross-generational collaboration that included photographer Danny Clinch, with art direction by Jo DiDonato, and design by Aimée Macauley — the latter two, employees of Columbia Records. Clinch photographed Nas and his crew in Queensbridge, the largest housing project in the US. Six images appeared across the original vinyl and CD releases.According to Large Professor, speaking to DJ Vlad, the portrait of Nas, in which his hand obscures his face — complete with a small rip — was always meant to be the cover. The tear was accidental. “He had it under a piece of glass, and I guess when he went to grab it, the glass must’ve stuck right there, so that’s the rip right there.” It stayed because it felt right.Illmatic is widely considered to be the first of many hip-hop album covers to feature a child — from Biggie through to Lil Wayne, and Kendrick Lamar. Ghostface would later infamously call out rappers (supposedly Big) for biting the cover art during a skit on Raekwon’s Only Built 4 Cuban Link. Though Nas later dismissed the critique — but it’s not the first outside the genre.When I send Easy a Discogs link to A Child Is Born (1972) by The Howard Hanger Trio, he chuckles at the artwork. “If I had to guess,” he says, “it’s probably a record his dad had in his collection.” The resemblance to Illmatic is uncanny: a child’s face, roughly the same age, gazing directly at the viewer, superimposed over a crumbling city street. Musically, it’s a deep, almost spiritual modal jazz record, featuring eerie interpretations of Simon and Garfunkel’s Scarborough Fair, and Eleanor Rigby, by The Beatles.When it surfaces, A Child Is Born now sells for three figures, likely inflated by its accidental proximity to one of hip-hop’s most revered LPs. The trio released just three albums between 1970 and 1977 before quietly disappearing. Howard Hanger himself came from a lineage of principled Methodist ministers; a family history marked by civil rights activism, anti–Vietnam War protest, and the defence of same-sex unions. No official link has ever been acknowledged between the two covers. Which only reinforces the point: the difference isn’t what you take — it’s whether you make it yours.The red thread here might just be family. As Easy explains, “My older brother changed my life. I probably wouldn’t be where I am without him. Even recently, with a Jordan release, I made sure it landed on his birthday.” Easy’s referring to the 2025 release of the Infinite Archives x Air Jordan 17 Low, inspired by the OG model by Wilson Smith, the first Black sneaker designer for the Jordan brand.Long before culture was flattened into clicks and stories, Easy Otabor was dedicating himself to moments — overlooked and era-defining — that once felt abundant and now feel increasingly rare. As for Illmatic today?“I go back to it all the time. There are just so many records on there — ‘Life’s a Bitch’, ‘The World Is Yours’, ‘Halftime’, ‘It Ain’t Hard to Tell’. The whole album stays in rotation. So when the question came up about album covers and what they mean, it was a no-brainer.“It’s as timeless as the record itself. It taught me not to overdo it — that less really can be more, and sometimes more powerful than anything complicated. Every time I look at it, everything stands still for a moment.”