In Conversation with Corey Johnson
- Valentina Reynolds
- 23 hours ago
- 8 min read
There are people in this industry who build careers, and there are people who build infrastructure. Corey Johnson belongs firmly in the second group. For nearly two decades, the South London music executive has been quietly doing the work that the music industry has historically refused to do for itself. Investing in young people before there was a return on the table. Building rooms before anyone was asking to be in them. Making the harder, smarter choice when the easier one would have paid out faster.
He is the kind of operator the industry depends on but rarely names. The one who understands that the value of music is not in the moment it is released, but in everything that comes after. The one who reads the contract twice. The one who founds Community Youth London in 2007 because no one else is going to, and then, almost twenty years later, packs up and does it all over again in Jamaica because the gaps are still there, just in different postcodes.
What ties his story together is not a single record or a single deal. It is a refusal to take the short money when the long money is on the table, and a deeper refusal to keep that knowledge to himself. The artists walking into rooms today with more leverage, more information, and a clearer sense of what their work is worth are walking into rooms that people like Corey Johnson helped reshape.
We sat down with him to talk about the choices that built that career, the cost of making them, and why the work he started in South London is now being rebuilt in Kingston.
Let's start at the call. When Future The Prince rang about clearing the Crazy Cousinz and Kyla sample, you walked away with equity instead of a bigger upfront fee. What did you actually know in that moment, and what were you gambling on?
"I guess I wouldn't really gamble on anything other than the song being heard, and this felt like, if it's gonna win, why shouldn't it win for everybody? I wasn't expecting it to win worldwide, I wasn't expecting it was gonna do diamond and platinum and nothing like that, but I'm like, if it's gonna make some money, work it on everybody else. I'm willing to take an advance as well. At that point, I could've pushed for bigger shares, but everybody wanted to get the deal done. So I didn't want to be the one to rock the boat too much. But yeah, literally, I just wanted a piece of the pie."
That choice sits against a much longer history of artists and executives taking the upfront money and signing away percentages they never got back. How aware of that pattern were you at the time?
"I'm a big fan of East Coast rappers, grew up on East Coast rappers, and seeing the horror stories of seeing the, I guess, the Pandas happening and everything like that. And I've also had it happen to me, missing out on those crew opportunities. So I guess it was just a feeling that, you know what, this doesn't need to be that take the money and run situation. Plus, it wasn't life changing. So I was like, okay, yeah, take the money and hype up. Yeah, we've got a song with Drake, but we need something about that generational wealth."
Kyla's "Do You Mind" was already a cult record in the UK long before Drake touched it. What did it feel like to be the person holding that original, knowing where it eventually ended up?
"I guess it felt surreal. The song's always gonna be something to be Defenders Entertainment and Northern Records, it's always gonna be an era of my life where I'll remember going to Ayia Napa and exploding on the stage, going back and shooting a video on a Red cam, which was a new camera that was out at the time.
The team that worked to actually promote the record, the highs and lows of it as well. It was a journey, so it felt surreal. And then to ask him in South Africa, how did you actually hear about this song? Because we heard so many people were responsible, and I actually saw OG one time at a festival, and I'm like, thanks bro, really appreciate you playing the song to Drake, I can't believe it man, really big bro. He said, bro, it wasn't me. I'm like, mate, I've seen it on the internet, they said it was you, you was the one. And then when I met Drake in South Africa, he said he hardly heard the song.
It was actually because when we first put the song up, it was just a song that him and his friends just liked, so they played it all the time, they gave it to friends and played it at house parties. So it was just that song that they played when the girls came on. So, as he said, oh yeah, yes, let's do something with that song. So it really was amazing, but also surreal."
The record itself mixed dancehall, afrobeats and UK dance in a way that felt almost accidental to outsiders but clearly wasn't. How much of that sonic conversation was deliberate, and how much did the music just know what it was doing before anyone else did?
"I guess the sounds of dancehall were not even new to me. I think if you deep dive into the production and everything, they're from Jamaican heritage too, so there's a lot of Jamaican blood in that record, there's a lot of dancehall in that record, there's a lot of reggae in that record, I guess. Plus, it's got that original African drum, so it's gonna have that flavour. Because it's that combination. And also, it all starts from Africa. So I guess it was always gonna be a smash just from the whole energy of the record."
Zoom out for a second. The industry is in a different place now in terms of artist education and awareness around ownership. From where you were sitting in 2016 to where things stand today, what's actually changed?
"The industry has changed in the sense that we aren't seeing that development of new talent, there isn't the money being put into the grassroots. So we're not seeing that conveyor belt. So if anything, it's a shame not to see new energy and new music, new talent coming through."
While we're on the industry shifting, the YouTube Originals documentary "Terms and Conditions" put a spotlight on drill music at a moment when the culture was being heavily scrutinised. What did you want people to actually walk away understanding?
"With Terms and Conditions, and with a lot of things that were happening, it was more about the companies and mainstream that were benefiting commercially understanding that money and resources needed to be put back into the underground. Not just into advances and sponsorship deals, but into programmes that could divert other young people from a lack of opportunity, programmes that could help with mental health, programmes that could help with artist development.
That's what the thing was. It was about not demonising something that's making everybody so much money. Revert and put some money back into it for it to then maybe have a different trajectory."
That points back to something you've been doing for a long time. You built Community Youth London in 2007, well before artist empowerment became a talking point. What were you seeing in those communities that the industry was actively choosing not to look at?
"You see where it all started. There was a need for there to be a safe place, a need for there to be a hub somewhere where young people could meet people that were experienced, somewhere that wasn't about making money for them, it was about making music. So it always started with love and support and just trying to be somewhere for young people to keep safe. Those creators then using that space became a thing. But really, it was always about that.
It was a community. I think that's what's been missing even in music right now, is that community feeling."
Nearly two decades on, you've now built the same infrastructure in Jamaica. What does it tell you about the music industry that the same gaps still exist, just in different postcodes?
"With community of Jamaica, and community of Ghana, and youth communities like that, it's a blessing, but they definitely need that support. It just shows that there are problems we have in communities and at the grassroots worldwide, but it also shows that if we've got talent exposed to access and resources, they can go on to reach their full potential.
These are young people, no matter where they are in the world, that's what they need. So I don't think it's only with me and with the UK. When you have poverty, you need opportunity. When you have opportunity and you have talent, then only God has the plan for what can happen next. So funding, support, resources, that's what's needed."
You're working with Community Youth Jamaica alongside DJ AG now to get local talent in front of global audiences through livestreams. What does that pipeline actually look like on the ground?
"For DJ AG, we were fortunate to be employed just to work and sort out logistics, security, help sort out line-ups and talent. And then our organisation was fortunate just to be on the ground at the grassroots stage of it, just to meet some of the artists, connecting with Jordan Wilson as a director. And yeah, really, his next trip is when we're looking at how we could possibly work more properly, because the organisation was just new, so he was much more established than we were, to be fair."
Bringing it back to the song that started this conversation, "One Dance" just had its biggest single streaming day in nearly a decade. What does a record that size still moving like that tell you about what people are actually looking for in music right now?
"Ten years, well, it's always gonna be a blessing from God. And I guess, it's not really about what One Dance is achieving in stream and numbers. I guess we look at the recent trends. People are looking for nostalgia. People are looking to remember the good times that they've had. People are going back to loads of songs and different genres. We're seeing spikes in artists that people weren't even born when those artists would be.
So I guess it shows that good music never dies.
And yeah, at the moment, because there's no money going into grassroots, people are then really, it's just keeping the eyes on the ones that have been there already. So it just pulls back to the same problem that we have. If no money goes into new talent and development, we've only got the old music coming round, churning and doing this thing, which is great. But there's a bigger picture, but we always need new music, always need new talent."
Speaking of that record's reach, "One Dance" ended up on Barack Obama's summer playlist. Did anyone actually call you when that happened, or did you find out the same way the rest of us did?
"Nah, I wasn't fortunate to find out about the Barack Obama playlist or anything like that. We didn't have the political link yet, Uncle B didn't give me that shout. But yeah, we found out the same way the rest of you did. Definitely, Uncle B, get at me next time. DM me, one of the team can send me a WhatsApp. We can make it happen."
Last one. If the version of you that was clearing that Kyla sample in 2016 could see where the record is now, what would he think you got right, and what would he think you completely underestimated?
"I underestimated so much. I guess the first thing is the underestimated mental, emotional and spiritual impact that having such a big record would have, because that puts you in a different place, it puts different people around you, and at the time my little sister passed away, so it was a very difficult time for me for sure. So in hindsight, I would have taken maybe a little me time.
I would have then selected a team that has more experience with some team members. I would have also definitely been more forward facing and being that front of business, because I ultimately didn't push myself out there or push to be seen or anything like that. This was in the background. I was happy to have the business done. I was grieving my little sister. I was the only human."