There’s a line I walk every time I remix an old track.
It’s a line between tribute and theft, homage and exploitation. Because when you take someone else’s music—especially something created decades ago—and twist it into something new, you’re not just making art. You’re stepping into someone else’s legacy.
And that deserves respect.
I don’t sample casually. Every time I lift a vocal, a groove, or a horn line from a forgotten song, I ask myself: Am I doing this justice? Am I lifting it up or just ripping it off?
The truth is, remixing history comes with responsibility. These tracks were written in different times, by people who didn’t have access to TikTok, streaming, or modern publishing systems. Many of them never saw fair compensation for their work. Some were never properly credited. Some were actively silenced.
So when I breathe new life into an old track, I want to make sure I’m not just borrowing a sound—I’m honouring a voice.
That means:
- Crediting the original artist wherever possible
- Researching the story behind the song
- Respecting cultural context (not all samples are fair game)
- Releasing with transparency when reworking historical material
- Getting clearance when the release is commercial
Music is a form of memory. And remixing gives us the power to keep that memory alive—but if we’re not careful, we can also distort it.
So I try to ask: Would the original artist be proud of what I’ve done with their work?
If the answer is yes, I hit play.
If it’s no, I dig deeper.
Remixing history isn’t about being clever. It’s about being careful, intentional, and grateful. Because these aren’t just sounds—they’re stories. And I want to tell them with the respect they deserve.