Not every great song makes it to the top of the charts. Some fall through the cracks. Some never get their moment. Some were released at the wrong time, under the wrong label, or into the wrong crowd. And some were simply too far ahead of their time.
I call them the forgotten songs that deserved better.
These are the hidden treasures—the dusty vinyl cuts, the underplayed B-sides, the overlooked gems that have all the makings of greatness: incredible vocals, killer melodies, soul-wrenching lyrics, grooves that make your spine tingle. But for one reason or another, they didn’t make it into the mainstream.
And that’s where I come in.
As a remixer, my mission is to give these songs the spotlight they were always meant to have. I dig through decades of music history, listening for tracks that should have been hits. I listen with open ears and a curious heart—because sometimes all it takes is one new beat, one reimagined arrangement, to let a song finally shine.
Why Great Songs Get Forgotten
There’s a myth that the best music always rises to the top. But anyone who’s spent time in the music industry—or even just in a record shop—knows that’s not true.
Here’s why some brilliant songs go unheard:
- Timing: A track might be too experimental for its era. A synth-heavy soul track in the 70s? Too weird. Today? Perfect.
- Marketing: Plenty of artists never had the right promo, manager, or budget to push their work.
- Genre Bias: Some genres get less attention, especially when they don’t fit neatly into radio formats or streaming categories.
- B-Side Syndrome: Some of the best tracks get tucked away on the flip side of a single and never reach wider audiences.
- Cultural Shifts: Politics, social trends, and mainstream tastes change fast. What’s ignored in one decade can feel urgent in another.
And then there’s pure bad luck. The wrong DJ didn’t play it. The right review didn’t come. The label folded. The band broke up. The world moved on.
But the music stayed.
Crate-Digging for Redemption
I live for the moment when I drop the needle (or load the file) on a track I’ve never heard—and I know. I know it deserved more. I know it could move a room, stir a memory, start a movement. That’s the moment I know I’ve found something worth bringing back.
Here are just a few forgotten songs I’ve resurrected that deserved so much more the first time around:
- “Don’t Touch Me Tomato” by Phyllis Dillon – A playful Caribbean ska-soul track with a wild vocal that I flipped into a summer dancehall stomper. The original barely charted.
- “I’m Gonna Run Away From You” by Tami Lynn – A blistering soul belter I reworked with a broken beat groove and ambient pads. It’s now the emotional core of one of my most shared remixes.
- “Love Me or Leave Me” by Lena Horne – Her vocals were ahead of her time—so I wrapped them in a lush, downtempo, lo-fi jazz-hop setting. The fusion stunned crowds who’d never heard of her.
- “I Surrender” by Sheila Hylton – A reggae-disco crossover track I sped up, chopped up, and dropped into a dubstep wobble set. Now it floors bass-heavy crowds weekly.
Every one of these tracks came from obscurity. But when reimagined the right way, they explode with relevance. They hit with the kind of emotion and groove you can’t fake.
Reimagining History on the Dancefloor
There’s something deeply satisfying about watching a crowd lose their mind to a track that originally sold a few hundred copies.
It’s not just about getting people to dance. It’s about giving the song—and the artist behind it—a moment they never got. It’s rewriting history in real-time. It’s correcting the record.
Because let’s be honest: there’s a lot of music out there. Some of it was simply too raw, too honest, or too different for its moment. But now, with the tools of remix culture and the appetite for genre-blending sounds, there’s space for those forgotten songs to finally be heard.
And when they are? It’s magic.
The Emotional Weight of Rediscovery
These forgotten songs often come with stories—real ones.
I’ve had relatives of long-gone singers reach out, shocked and grateful that someone found and reworked their loved one’s music. I’ve had people in the crowd message me after a show, saying that a remix brought back memories of a parent, a road trip, a first love.
One woman once told me that my remix of a 1950s torch song helped her grieve. “I’d been crying to the original for years,” she said. “But now I dance with the memory. That feels better.”
That’s what it’s about. These aren’t just remixes. They’re rituals. They’re reckonings. They’re reminders.
My Process: From Forgotten to Festival
Want to know how I choose what gets resurrected?
- Step 1: Listen Wide – I don’t limit myself by genre. I’ll dig into bolero, gospel, doo-wop, swing, reggae, chanson française—anything with emotion.
- Step 2: Feel It First – If the original doesn’t move me, I don’t touch it. It has to feel like something.
- Step 3: Deconstruct – I break the song apart. Strip it down to the vocal, the hook, the rhythm.
- Step 4: Build the Mood – Do I want the remix to be joyful? Wistful? Intense? I use that feeling to choose tempo, effects, layering.
- Step 5: Test and Refine – I try it live. I watch the crowd. If it hits? It stays. If not, I tweak it until it does.
I’m not interested in remixes that just throw a dance beat on a song and call it done. I want to keep the soul intact—and bring it to life in a new body.
These Songs Still Matter
Just because a track didn’t chart doesn’t mean it isn’t worth remembering. And just because it’s old doesn’t mean it’s irrelevant.
In fact, I’d argue the opposite. The forgotten songs are often the ones with the most depth. They weren’t shaped for radio or watered down for marketing. They were made from heart, grit, and fire. Real emotion. Real stories.
When I bring them back, I’m not just remixing sound—I’m remixing intention. And I think people can feel that.
They may not know the original, but they feel the truth in it. They hear it in the chorus. They sense it in the drop.
The Remix as Redemption
To me, remixing forgotten songs is a kind of justice.
It’s telling the world: You missed this. You didn’t see it. But here it is—louder, stronger, undeniable.
It’s giving voice to talent that got sidelined. It’s turning missed opportunities into standing ovations. It’s bridging decades and dancefloors.
And yeah—it’s fun as hell.
I don’t care if a track is 70 years old. If it’s got soul, it’s got life left in it. And I’ll do everything I can to make sure people hear it. Feel it. Move to it.
Because the songs that deserved better? I’m giving them what they always needed: a second chance. A proper moment. And a crowd ready to feel every beat.
Let’s keep dancing with the forgotten. They’ve got so much left to say.