'I can't stop DJing,' Mark Ronson says — never mind the back pain

TONYA MOSLEY, HOST:

This is FRESH AIR. I'm Tonya Mosley. Music producer and DJ Mark Ronson's new memoir, "Night People," takes us back to a New York that no longer exists. Before Mayor Rudy Giuliani's crackdown on nightlife, before camera phones and bottle service transform the culture forever.

It's the story of how a young outsider with a British accent found his place in the 1990s club scene, learning how to read crowds, dig through crates and create the perfect mix of venues where the city's tribes collided - rappers and models and skaters and socialites - everyone glamorous and, as Ronson describes them, a little lawless.

Night people, as he defines them, are different than people who simply enjoy a night out. They become their best selves once the sun goes down, and daytime is just the warmup. These formative years spinning records would shape everything that came after.

Ronson is a nine-time Grammy Award winner, producing career-defining albums for Amy Winehouse and Lady Gaga. He's also behind hits like "Uptown Funk" with Bruno Mars, "Shallow" from "A Star Is Born," and the "Barbie" soundtrack. But "Night People" takes us to Ronson's beginning, DJing in '90s New York and rubbing shoulders with artists that would go on to become hip-hop and R&B legends like Biggie Smalls, Timbaland and Missy Elliott, Jay-Z, Puff Daddy and Aaliyah. Mark Ronson, welcome back to FRESH AIR.

MARK RONSON: Thank you so much. Thank you, Tonya. Thanks for having me.

MOSLEY: Yeah. You know, Mark, this was a really fun read. And it had me thinking that most of us experience the DJ from the dance floor. So this book really gives us a glimpse of what it's actually like for the DJ. And I actually think I want to start our conversation by you reading from the book. It's the opening scene right at the top, and it gives us a taste. Can you read it for us?

RONSON: Absolutely. (Reading) 2 a.m. You're at a house party packed with people rolling up from the club all trying to squeeze a few more hours out of Saturday night. It's not wild, but it could get there. In the kitchen, bodies huddle around a counter mixing bottom shelf vodka with whatever's in reach, Capri-Sun, kombucha, maybe both. Out on the terrace, the die-hards are smoking cigarettes like it's still 1999, ashing into a cereal bowl that's been sacrificed for the occasion. In the living room, speakers pump out a mishmash of bedroom pop and the occasional boy band classic, somebody's go-to playlist. It's ironic, tolerable and ultimately a bit lifeless.

You can feel it, though. The party is on the verge, just needs someone brave enough to tip it over. You pull out your phone and queue up your surefire banger. Sliding over to the speaker, you hijack the aux chord like it's nothing and, (buzzing), a sharp electronic buzz rips through the room. Eyes snap towards you. The judgment is heavy. But then your fingertip makes contact. And the opening kick drums of Fatman Scoop's "Be Faithful" tear through the room like blows from Thor's hammer.

The shift is seismic. Cups slam to countertops, the sofa gets shoved back, bodies flood the floor with raised hands. A collective finally overtakes the place. You stand by the speaker, cradling your phone like a trophy. The room is alive, buzzing and somehow united. Your finger hovers over the screen to queue up the next heater. The crowd now trusts you. You're about to show them why.

MOSLEY: (Laughter) That's my guest today, award-winning producer and DJ Mark Ronson, reading from his new memoir, "Night People." Mark, I love this moment because it really is kind of a pure show of your power as a DJ. You're able to just make the room explode by the decisions that you make. And you describe in this book how nothing compares to the first time you feel it. Take me back to the actual first time you actually experienced that rush.

RONSON: Yeah. So the first time I had that feeling, I was at my mother's wedding to my stepfather. And I think I was 10 years old. And they had, like, a really small, little wedding in the garden of this summer rental. And even though my stepdad was this really successful, huge rock star, he was in the band Foreigner and, you know, wrote all these songs - "I Want To Know What Love Is," "Waiting For A Girl Like You" - it seemed like the music at the wedding was almost an afterthought.

Like, I think they were playing, like, a tape deck in the house that was wired to some speakers in the garden. And then one point as the sun was going down, the music just kind of stopped entirely. Like, you heard the cassette, like, kind of snap. And Mick just looked at me, and he was like, Mark, go put something on. And, you know, obviously, this felt like all the responsibility of the world in my hands, like, this little kid obsessed with music. Like, my stepdad saying, like, you can control the music, you know?

MOSLEY: (Laughter) Yeah.

RONSON: Like, at this wedding. So I ran in the house, and there were all these cassettes on the floor. And I remember, like, searching through them, and there was nothing that seemed right. And then I saw "Timepieces: The Best Of Eric Clapton." And I was like, oh. And even in my, like, 10-year-old brain, I saw the song "Wonderful Tonight" on there, and I was like, that is an appropriate song for now. Like, my mom looks wonderful in her dress. And it seems romantic. And I'm going to put that on.

I quickly queued it up, you know, had some crazy '80s cassette deck with an auto queue and found the song, hit play. And I remember standing inside the house, looking through the window as my stepdad pulls my mom in for, like, a slow dance, and the moon. And, you know, I even say in the book my memory here is blurry. And it might be a little Hollywooded out.

MOSLEY: (Laughter).

RONSON: But it was like, he brought her in. She's luminescent in this dress. And I just stood there watching this scene, slightly drunk off this feeling of like, oh, my God, you know, this is my music playing out there. But also, it was this thing. It was like the first time in my life I genuinely have a memory of having done something right. So, you know, obviously, at that moment, that wasn't like my Spider-Man genesis story. I wasn't suddenly like, and now I'm going to be a DJ.

MOSLEY: (Laughter).

RONSON: I didn't even put this together probably till I was writing the book. But it really is one of my most sort of visceral early childhood memories.

MOSLEY: Well, you make this distinction between people who enjoy a night out and night people, people who kind of just become their best selves once the sun goes down. And when did you realize that you were also a night person?

RONSON: Well, I think it's one of those things. You know, when I was 18, starting out as a DJ in clubs in New York, music was just my passion. So I'm chasing this thing at night because if you're a DJ, obviously you work at night. But then as I was writing the book and I started to piece together, like, wait, this really tight-knit crew of maybe 200 people that we saw all the time that were all a little broken in their own way - or maybe it's too much of a generalization to say everybody was, like, you know, falling apart or a vampire.

But there was this thing that the people that I saw out night after night were people that the daytime was just, like, a little too, like, in the whatever, the bright light of day. It was, like, too much for people. Maybe they were running from something, running towards something, looking for community. So I realized, you know, I came up with the term night people because I thought that applied to our little cracked community of people.

MOSLEY: You also were raised by night people. You mentioned your mom. You mentioned your stepdad, Mick Jones. He would actually wake you up in the middle of the night on school nights - and I think you were in middle school - to get your opinion on Foreigner mixes.

RONSON: Yeah.

MOSLEY: What do you remember most about those nights?

RONSON: I just remember thinking it was so cool that he - obviously he valued my opinion. You know, I was so obsessed with music, and he had a home studio. And the idea of being in his home studio, watching him craft these demos and trying to learn how to work these tape machines and stuff was so cool. Like, his home studio was my favorite room in the house. So the fact that he would wake me up at 2 in the morning and be like play me these mixes from the latest Foreigner songs and ask my opinion. I just - I mean, I've so valued my time spent alone with him because he was out of the house and on tour a lot, and I was so close to him. But also, feeling like my opinion meant anything was also really kind of - yeah. It just meant the world to me.

MOSLEY: Mark, I mean, it's your life, so it's normal for you. But I think for any Foreigner fan or even those who just are aware of Foreigner, to hear that you were in the room as he was going through these mixes - some of them went on to be very popular songs, iconic songs. Are there things that you remember where you were listening to those beginning - like, the beginning stages of music that would become the tapestry of our lives?

RONSON: I don't remember specific songs. But I think it was the first time that he brought a mix home and played it for me. And then he played me a mix of the same song, you know, a week later, and I said, I kind of like the other one. Or I was, you know, 9 years old, squeaky English accent, like, I kind of like the other one because it had a - the bass was a bit louder. And he was just like, what? Like, how? And then he checked and - with the engineer, like, was the bass louder? And I think after that, he realized I had this sort of, like, bizarre, like, recall for these things. I think he started to value my opinion. But, no, it is crazy to think that I was listening to it as he was - like, "I Want To Know What Love Is," and these songs that would become classics. Like, I can't tell you how much of my, you know, opinion actually went into the final product, but it was so important to me.

MOSLEY: I really can't get over that he wrote "I Want To Know What Love Is" about your mother.

RONSON: I know. And, no, that's insane. And then also, the song that he wrote, "Waiting For A Girl Like You," before - he tried to convince my mom that he wrote it for her, too, and she was like, I'm not having it. She's like, but you wrote that four years before you met me.

MOSLEY: (Laughter).

RONSON: But he was like, but I was waiting for a girl like you. I think he was just trying to be romantic or something, but, yeah, she wasn't having it.

MOSLEY: Let's take a short break. If you're just joining us, we're talking with Mark Ronson about his new memoir, "Night People," which chronicles his formative years as a DJ in 1990s New York. We'll continue our conversation after a short break. This is FRESH AIR.

(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "FAKIN' THE FUNK (SOUND TRACK VERSION)")

MAIN SOURCE: (Vocalizing).

MOSLEY: This is FRESH AIR. And today, I'm talking with Mark Ronson, the Grammy-winning producer and DJ whose memoir, "Night People," takes us inside the New York City club scene in the 1990s. The book captures a pivotal moment in music history, when hip-hop was crossing over into the mainstream and when a young Ronson was learning his craft and venues across Manhattan.

You had this incredible music education at home with Mick, and just - your mother also had lots of musician and creative friends who would come in and out of your home. She had lots of parties at night, so you got to see night people even in the adults who were around you as a young child. But at 17, you write about how you were still kind of searching for your own musical identity. You had started a couple of bands with friends, and then you heard this song by Pete Rock & CL Smooth, "They Reminisce Over You (T.R.O.Y.)." That's the name of the song. And something in you clicked, and I want to talk to you about that. But first, I want us to listen to a bit of it.

(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "THEY REMINISCE OVER YOU (T.R.O.Y.)")

PETE ROCK AND CL SMOOTH: (Rapping) I reminisce. I reminisce. Yeah. I reminisce for a spell, or, shall I say, think back 22 years ago to keep it on track. The birth of a child on the 8 of October. A toast, but my granddaddy came sober. Counting all the fingers and the toes. Now I suppose you hope the little black boy grows. Yeah. Eighteen...

MOSLEY: I think that came out, like, in 1992.

RONSON: Yeah.

MOSLEY: Tell me about the night you first heard that and why it rocked your world.

RONSON: Like you said, you know, I had spent my whole teens just wanting to play music. I had this band that I had put, like, my entire sort of, like - I had no social life at school. Like, everything was about this band. And there were four other brilliant musicians in it, and I was sort of probably the weak link, technically, as a guitar player. But my - you know, I hustled, got us, you know - made the flyers, got us the gigs, arranged the songs, produced our demos and stole stage clothes from my mom's closet. But I think there was just this moment where I started to become a little frustrated with the lack of my technical abilities, and everyone's kind of shooting past me. And I started to have this more real realization, like, if this is what being a musician is, like, I - if I want to be in music, I might have to find my own lane.

And we had had this really big gig - our most important gig ever - at this thing called the New Music Seminar, which was sort of like a South by Southwest that used to happen in New York in the '90s where the biggest bands and new bands would play. And, you know, A&R scouts would come, and that's how they found the huge superstars of tomorrow or whatever. And we got this big gig, which I sort of blagged our way into, opening up for - I think it was Arrested Development. And we had just - we had bombed. We had bombed at the gig. It was the last gig before every - a couple of the band were going off to college. It was, like, just one of those turning point nights where, like, wow. Like, we just - we - this is - might be over.

And riding back uptown in my drummer's - I remember he had a Mazda 626 that - it was his stepdad's, and we had shoved the drum kit and my amps in the back. And we're heading up the West Side Highway kind of, like, in dead silence 'cause we're just both kind of, like, just so bummed from the gig. And he put this song on, "They Reminisce Over You," and there was just something. I mean, you just heard it, how mournful. It's just so beautiful, but the drums are so driving and groovy and incredible. And there's something about loss and mourning that's in the lyrics. And I just heard it, and it just got under my skin in such a way. And I just was like, this is what I want to do. Whatever I have to do to only be around this music from now on, that's what I want. And that was kind of the turning point when I decided to become a DJ.

MOSLEY: You described it as wanting to live inside of the song, which I thought was just really powerful.

RONSON: Yeah, there was, yeah. And I think I said, like, I got back to my drummer's house, and I stayed over at his house because it was one of those nights, like, you'd do anything not to go home, like, even if you're sleeping on someone's couch, just to be in the next room from someone. And I just remember listening to his - he had a single, a cassette single. And I listened to it over and over again, like, chasing the ache. Like, you know when there's something that's just sad, but you just, like, want to absolutely fully dive into it? And that was a real turning point for me.

MOSLEY: There's that saxophone that loops in that song, which is a sample. It's actually from the 1967 song "Today" by Tom Scott. And I actually want to play a little bit of that, too. And we're actually picking up the song where that saxophone comes in for the song, which is kind of later in this song. Let's listen.

(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "TODAY")

TOM SCOTT: (Singing) To be Any more than all I am would be a lie. I'm so full of love I could burst apart and start to cry.

MOSLEY: That was "Today" by Tom Scott, 1967. And, Mark, this was a real turning point for you, as you said. And this original sample, you found it as well, and that ignited an obsession for you. You write about spending hours in record stores hunting down for these kind of obscure records. But what strikes me about this particular sample is how - I don't want to say buried, but it comes at the latter half of this song. So when you're hunting for samples, I mean, you're not just hunting for rare records. You're hunting for hidden moments within the records. I'm just wondering, when you started to go search for your own samples, how deep would you dig into a single song?

RONSON: Well, I think you're exactly right. Like, this is an example that the most beautiful moment of a song could be somewhere, you know, in the middle. And there's a tendency when you're sampling or, you know, quote-unquote, "digging for breaks," like, you're just kind of listening to the beginning three seconds of every song. But, you know, you talk to any legendary producer from that time, DJ Premier or Q-Tip, they were always, like, listening to the whole record. Dilla, you know, one of the most celebrated producers, always would.

But I love that you played that song, A. Thank you. And B, it's so emblematic of that time. Like, that was, I know - because I'm so obsessed with the Pete Rock song, I know all the folklore. And there was this famous record convention that would happen a few times a year at the Roosevelt Hotel in Midtown. And everybody would go to find their breaks, you know, in the '90s. And Large Professor, a very popular producer of the time, had grabbed the record and decided maybe listen to it quickly. It wasn't for him and handed it to Pete Rock while he was leaving and was like, hey, there's nothing for me on here. Like, you might dig this.

And then the fact that it's an obscure. Tom Scott was this incredible session saxophone player who played with Joni Mitchell and on countless, you know, film soundtracks and so celebrated now. But back then, he was just making an obscure jazz instrumentalist record where he was covering also, like, not obscure, but a lesser-known song by the Jefferson Airplane. And, like, how do all these things come together to then provide the music for one of the most sort of iconic hip-hop songs of its era? This was just such a wonderful, like, sort of, you know, patchwork, like, of all these coincidences. And it was so emblematic of that time.

MOSLEY: How deep was your obsession to find these obscure records? And, like, what lengths would you go to?

RONSON: Oh, my God. Like, well, this record was an obscure record, like most things, and probably a $5 record until that sample happened. And then suddenly, it was a $100 record because now it's part of an iconic. It's part of history. And everyone wants to also check out what other gold might be on that album. So that record was out of the question for me to have at that point because, you know, it was a $100 record. But I would - you know, there was no streaming. There was nothing there.

So there was one guy at my college, this DJ record collector named Ben Velez who I knew who had that record. And I would just go to his room. Like, sometimes he would come back to his dorm room. He was a senior and I was a freshman. And I'd be, like, sitting outside his dorm room waiting for him to, like, open the door so I could come and listen to some of these records again because that's - and I had to spend, like, the first month at college, like, proving my worth and, like, trustworthiness to him so he would even let me listen to records.

So, like, it was such an interesting time. If there was something that you loved, like, the access to it was so slim. And you had to kind of, like, befriend people who had the records and then prove yourself as, you know, whatever, like, a genuine music appreciator. But, of course, I love it because it made everything so sacred. But it's ridiculous now. To think you could just go to WhoSampled, and you would find out what the thing was, and you would immediately go to Spotify or YouTube.

MOSLEY: Our guest today is Mark Ronson, Grammy-winning producer and author of the new memoir "Night People: How To Be A DJ In '90s New York City." I'm Tonya Mosley, and this is FRESH AIR.

(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "UPTOWN FUNK")

BRUNO MARS: (Singing) This hit that ice cold, Michelle Pfeiffer, that white gold. This one for them hood girls, them good girls, straight masterpieces. Styling, wilding, living it up in the city. Got Chucks on with Saint Laurent. Got to kiss myself, I'm so pretty.

(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "COLD SWEAT")

JAMES BROWN: Look at you, funky as you want to be. Get it. Double up on it one. Come on, come on. I think I'll cut it off right here. One, two, three.

MOSLEY: This is FRESH AIR. I'm Tonya Mosley. And I'm talking today with Mark Ronson about his new memoir, "Night People," which chronicles his years as a DJ in 1990s New York City. Ronson is a nine-time Grammy winner who has produced hits for artists like Amy Winehouse, Lady Gaga and Bruno Mars, but the book focuses on his formative years learning his craft in Manhattan's club scene. The memoir has just been optioned for a film by Plan B Entertainment, Brad Pitt's production company.

You paint this vivid picture. But I want to go a little bit deeper into the sheer physicality of your job because I would just guess that New York City is not for the faint of heart for DJs. Because today, you just have kind of, like, a computer or a thumb drive with your music. But back then, you had to lug these big crates of records through the city to play gigs. How many crates, on average, would you take to a gig? And, like, where - would you jump in a cab? Would you be on a subway? Would you be climbing up stairs?

RONSON: Oh, my God. I mean, all of it. I mean, so I - the standard that I would take on any given night was probably three crates to - you know, with a hundred records each and maybe, like, a giant bursting bag 'cause you're taking old-school disco and classics, old-school hip-hop, new-school hip-hop, R&B, reggae, a little bit of house music. So if you're doing a four- or five-hour set, which is what we're doing most nights, that's what you're bringing.

So if, like - if I was playing a cool club, I had a bunch of friends with me. Everybody wants to get in, get some drink tickets. If I was playing, like, a not-so-cool club, like, just playing one of my, you know, sort of uptown, like, pay-the-bills gigs at a bar on the Upper East Side, nobody was coming with me. And those were the nights when, you know - I mean, I kind of write about it. Like, sometimes leaving my apartment would be like that riddle of the teacher in school, the fox - the farmer and the bag of grain and the fox and the chicken.

MOSLEY: (Laughter).

RONSON: And the farmer has to take...

MOSLEY: Right.

RONSON: ...Them across the thing.

MOSLEY: Yeah.

RONSON: So...

MOSLEY: Yeah.

RONSON: I had three crates and put one in my front door to keep the door open, call the elevator, put one in the elevator to keep the elevator door open, go back for the third one that was in the apartment, put that in the elevator, pick up the one that was in my apartment door, bring that over, on the way in kick the one that's holding the elevator door open. All the way downstairs, I'm already breaking a sweat, and then repeat the whole thing in reverse. And that was, like, in the - that was only one building where I ever had an elevator. The rest of it were, like, four- or five-story walk-ups. So you were really, like - yeah, you were - you had broken a sweat before you were even in the cab on the way to the club. But it's - I was 22. You know, my back could take it. It's a little bit...

MOSLEY: Yeah.

RONSON: ...Different now.

MOSLEY: What's your back like today?

RONSON: Yeah, it's not very grateful to that 22-year-old DJ. It's - I have, like - you know, listen, it's not like maybe being a chef or another intense line or thing where you're just, like, covered in cuts, bruises and calluses. But I still have - I only found out two years ago that I have this crazy arthritis in my right foot from 25 years. The doctor - when I went in, he was like, oh, I watched a YouTube video of you. I noticed you kind of, like, really aggressively tap your foot while you're DJing. And I had never thought about this 'cause you're just tapping to the beat. And he's like, yeah, that happens to musicians in the Phil. Like, even just tapping your foot for 30 years - that's a thing. So I...

MOSLEY: Wow.

RONSON: I've named it DJ foot 'cause I just, like, want it to be, like, my own. But, no, it's - and then - I mean, this - I'm not proud of any of this, but, like, terrible tinnitus. I've - my back is completely messed up from, you know, 25 years of headphones on. You've got your neck crooked to one side. But, yes.

MOSLEY: Which looked kind of cool. You know, like, that...

RONSON: Yeah.

MOSLEY: ...Always is kind of the stance, but...

RONSON: It's the stance. It looks cool, but it's not great for you.

MOSLEY: Is there something you miss about it, though? I mean, it's much easier now you just got your computer in front...

RONSON: Well...

MOSLEY: ...Of you, I would guess, but...

RONSON: Yeah. I'd - I - you know, in the book, I wanted to keep it as diaristically and just really only in the '90s. And it's really only in the epilogue, where I'm walking around downtown with my daughter strapped to me in the BabyBjorn and seeing the clubs and talking about what it was like then versus now, with a laptop versus the hundreds of records.

And a good friend of mine read the book, and he said, hey, I really liked the book. He goes, it just sounds like you really miss playing vinyl. So you should just only play vinyl till the end of the year. And I don't know why. I was just like, OK. So I just - I started to play records again. I've been playing out in clubs in Brooklyn and downtown, and it really has been this joyous restart of my love for DJing. So I'm very grateful to it in some ways. But in other ways, like, yeah, carrying those records around is insane, going down into a basement and coming back up and like - I used to - I hope this is OK. Like, I used to be leaving the club and, like, dialing the dealer on the way out of the club. And now I'm making an appointment with my acupuncturist online as I'm...

MOSLEY: (Laughter).

RONSON: ...Leaving the club because my back is just so jacked. But I - it's been incredible playing vinyl again, actually. I did - I didn't realize how much I had missed that process.

MOSLEY: I want to talk a little bit about that power and control that you have to move people. There's this night you describe where you made people go literally nuts. It was at a club called Sweet Thang. Can I have you read?

RONSON: Absolutely.

(Reading) One night around 1 a.m., I dropped a new cut called "Deja Vu (Uptown Baby)." Only a few weeks old, its hometown pride refrain had already taken over every club and radio station in NYC. When the chorus hit, as the crowd chanted, uptown, baby, uptown, baby, we gets down, baby, loud enough to be heard five blocks away, I duck the volume and drop the instrumental of Busta Rhymes' "Put Your Hands Where My Eyes Could See" on beat under their voices, remixing the room itself. There was a half-second delay as their brains processed what just happened, and then they ignited like an energy rocket from floor to ceiling. For eight bars, it felt like we'd all leapt into another dimension.

MOSLEY: OK. So in that moment when there's that half-second delay for everybody's brains to process what just happened, that must have felt like an eternity. What does that feel like up there, where you're taking a chance and trying something new? You're not sure if the crowd is actually going to respond to it.

RONSON: It's just - I - it's such a visceral memory of all the times, 'cause there were, you know, thousands of times that I would do that. You would drop the volume. So the whole crowd is chanting, uptown, baby, uptown, baby. And as they're chanting, that's all they're thinking about. You drop - (imitating hip-hop beat) - the Busta Rhymes instrumental. So they're still chanting. There's a split second where they have to realize, oh, my God. He's dropping this other song that we love even more as we're singing under it. So you're - you are literally remixing the room. And they're - whenever you do one of those mixes, we used to call them wordplay mixes, where you go from, like, the line in one song. There's a line Snoop's "Gin And Juice" where we got, and they ain't leaving till 6 in the morning.

MOSLEY: Six in the morning. Yeah.

RONSON: And then on 6 in the morning, you drop - go right into Nas' "Oochie Wally" because he's referenced that song. So they ain't leaving till 6 in the morning is now Nas. So you've just done this slick on-beat transition from Snoop to Nas. And, of course, like, you know, it takes a half second for the brain to realize, but it's still on beat. And you just get this, like, crazy, like, blowback, this charge from the crowd all going like, oh, at the same time, you know? They call it the scream, the chant - whatever it is - and it's like clay or Play-Doh. Like, the whole crowd is this thing that you're able to mold together. It's incredible. It's kind of why I can't stop DJing. It's, like, still a feeling that I only get from this one thing no matter, sort of, what else I do in my work as a producer.

MOSLEY: Let's take a short break. If you're just joining us, we're talking with Mark Ronson about his new memoir "Night People." We'll continue our conversation after a short break. This is FRESH AIR.

(SOUNDBITE OF AMY WINEHOUSE SONG, "YOU KNOW I'M NO GOOD")

MOSLEY: This is FRESH AIR, and today I'm talking to Mark Ronson about his new memoir, "Night People," about coming of age as a DJ and the New York City club scene in the 1990s.

OK, Mark, so the crowds that you're playing for in the early and mid-'90s, it was such a blend - as you say, hip-hop hits and fashion kids and artists. But you also write about being Jewish in hip-hop, often one of the few white faces and having advantages that most DJs didn't with your family money and your connections. And I'm wondering, how did you balance being an outsider who, on one hand, you needed to prove yourself with being an insider who already had, like, certain doors open?

RONSON: Yes. Yes. Of course, when I started off DJing, like, coming from this, like, nice family uptown with a stepdad who was a rock star and my mom who was just, like, larger than life - you know, she was out in the parties, out in the scene in New York, sort of amazing rock 'n' roll artist mom. I was horribly embarrassed of all of it. But it's probably, like, more in a teenage way, when you're just like, oh, Mom, like, do you have to come to the club when I'm DJing? Meanwhile, everybody thought it was the coolest thing that my mom came to these, like, hole-in-the-wall basements and clubs. But, yes, I think in this kind of immature way, I thought that that would make me, like, quote-unquote, "other" in this scene, where really, like, the scene was just about showing, improving.

I remember Funkmaster Flex in a early article in The New York Times, and it was, like - it was - I just remember being like, this is the nicest thing anyone's ever said on me. I was, like, he - it doesn't matter who his family is, where he's from. He knows how to rock a room, like, blah, blah, blah. And that was just, like - you know, obviously, Flex at the time, was the absolute biggest figure in New York hip-hop.

But, yes, I did have advantages that other people really didn't have. Of course, my mom bought me the turntables for graduation. I had a stepdad who was a musician who nurtured, like, you know, my musical - what I wanted to do as a kid. So I had to really deal with that and address that really out in the open in the book because, of course, I had advantages and stuff like that. But I also, you know, worked my ass off, and that's kind of, like, the two sides of the book.

MOSLEY: It also sounded like something you did - and stick with me here. Like, it sounds like maybe that tension also pushed you to find your own lane to do something different. I actually think I want to reference the AC/DC "Back In Black" moment. You talk about this moment where you took some risks, where you brought in other types of music, not just old samples, but also, like, rock music that actually helped you develop your signature offering. And to do this, I want to actually play a little bit of "Back In Black" so we remember what that sounded like. Let's listen.

(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "BACK IN BLACK")

AC DC: (Singing) Back in black. I hit the sack. I've been too long. I'm glad to be back. Yes, I'm let loose from the noose that's kept me hanging about. I've been looking at the sky 'cause it's getting me high. Forget the hearse 'cause I'll never die. I got nine lives, cat's eyes. Abusing every one of them and running wild 'cause I'm back. Yes, I'm back.

MOSLEY: That was AC/DC's classic "Back In Black." And, Mark, you tell this story of how you took this gamble to smuggle this song into what you called the hottest hip-hop party on the East Coast. What did you do with it, and how did you know it would work?

RONSON: Well, I absolutely didn't know it would work. So obviously, just listening to that song now, it's like anybody with a pulse knows it's hot. It's pretty undeniable, that record. And...

MOSLEY: Yeah.

RONSON: ...It was - it had been sampled by Rick Rubin for the Beastie Boys. KRS had sampled it for Boogie Down Production. It wasn't completely foreign to hip-hop, but nobody played that record in the clubs at that time. And I was at this club called Spybar one night, which was this very, like - one of the first super trendy, exclusive ultra-VIP lounges. Like, I remember being at the door sometimes and watching, like, Trump get turned away. And it was just like - it was this place Leonardo DiCaprio - whatever the '90s. Like, it was, like, the place everybody wanted to be. And the DJs there played a lot of rock 'n' roll.

And half of the time I tried to get in, I couldn't get in. But one night, I'm in there, and they play the song, and everybody just starts going crazy and, like, dancing on the couches like it's the fall of Rome. And I just remember being hit by how powerful that record was. And this was a crowd that was dancing. It was very unlike the crowds that I DJed for, but I remember starting to think, God, I really want to play this at Cheetah, which was the big party on the Monday night, which is where Mike Tyson and Janet Jackson and Missy Elliott - it really was this - the place.

So I worked out this mix all week where I could play "The Benjamins" (ph) by Lil' Kim and Puff Daddy, which was the biggest song of the time, and go into this rock 'n' roll remix as a transition and - of that song. And then right at - on the one as soon as Biggie's verse ended, play "Back In Black." And, you know, obviously, like, it was the kind of club that if you - if I'd played and fallen on my face, like - it's the kind of place something could get - a bottle could be thrown at the booth. Like, you don't really know. Like, it wasn't a place where you really wanted to mess around too much. So I played the thing, and I dropped the record, and there's a split second where it's, like, the crowd is just kind of like, huh? But it's on beat. Everybody's still dancing, and there's no chance to kind of be too judgmental when your body's still moving, right? And it feels good.

And by the second time the riff came around, the club just kind of erupted. Like, there was this incredible feeling. Like, the crowd - like, just everyone knowing they were doing something they kind of weren't supposed to be doing. Like, this song that we weren't supposed be hearing at Cheetah, I wasn't supposed to be playing it. They weren't supposed to be dancing to it. And it was just this great moment. And from that moment on, it did free me up and made me a little more brave.

And it's funny because, you know, the mashup era came quite soon after. So it's almost a little ho-hum to think of, like, playing "Back In Black" in a club. Like, of course. Why not? But at that moment, there was nothing like it. But it did help me find my own sound and identity. And that's kind of when I really started to, I guess, get, like, crazy gigs and offers because I was doing something that nobody else was doing.

MOSLEY: How many times can you pull out a trick, like, that "All About The Benjamins" with AC/DC in the same club, and then people identify it? Or does it work no matter how many times you do it? Like, how do you make that calculation?

RONSON: Yeah. You can't do it too much 'cause then it sort of loses the excitement, right? It loses the surprise factor. It's like if you're a stand-up comedian and you're going to do the same joke twice to the same crowd, it's going to be sort of - it's going to lose its impact, for sure. So you kind of do it in different clubs or you kept finding new ways to drop it or surprise it. You know, I'd be spending my whole days, like, practicing my mixes and the things that I wanted to do in the club that night.

MOSLEY: The job does seem very similar to a comedian because you're responding to the crowd. So you're coming with an established set, but are you also making decisions in the moment based on the reactions of the crowd and the dance floor?

RONSON: Yeah. I mean, sometimes you're making the decision before. Like, just once you walk into a room, and you kind of scan it, you're like, oh, I know what this crowd is going to be like, or...

MOSLEY: Yeah.

RONSON: You know, DJs and stand-ups, we both completely - our talent and skills are useless without a crowd. We can only do what we do in front of people. We work nights. You know, all my comedian friends are quite insular and, you know, obsessed with their craft and only hung out mainly with other comedians. It was like the DJ community was totally the same. You know, comics have timing. DJs have rhythm. We work clubs. We call it killing when we do good. It's like - it's actually funny how many similarities there really were.

MOSLEY: Let's take a short break. If you're just joining us, we're talking with Grammy-winning producer Mark Ronson about his new memoir "Night People," which captures his early years as a DJ in 1990s New York City. We'll be right back after a short break. This is FRESH AIR.

(SOUNDBITE OF THE BUDOS BAND'S "INTO THE FOG")

MOSLEY: This is FRESH AIR, and today I'm talking to Mark Ronson about his new memoir "Night People," about coming of age as a DJ and the New York City club scene in the 1990s.

In this era, people know you for the hits that you have produced for people like Amy Winehouse and Bruno Mars and Lady Gaga. You write about in the book, though, your first real production success outside of DJing was "Like A Feather" with Nikka Costa. And it's this fusion of hip-hop beats and rock guitars, and, of course, her soulful voice. Let's play a little.

(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "LIKE A FEATHER")

NIKKA COSTA: (Singing) Coming out of my wishing well, where only echoes lonely hear my prayer. I'm coming around to bending 'cause my resistance's been far too persistent. I've come too far to force it. So I'll watch it slide and land. I could come on strong and willful, but I'd rather watch it fall to the palm of my hand.

MOSLEY: That was Nikka Costa's "Like A Feather," produced by my guest, Mark Ronson. What did you learn about that type of collaboration 'cause DJing is also kind of a solitary endeavor as well. It's like you and your mind and your taste. And in this instance, you're working along with musicians who have very strong opinions as well.

RONSON: Yeah. We would have these crazy arguments, you know? And it was the first time that I really was, like, in a full collaboration with Nikka and her husband, Justin, who was the co-producer. And, you know, she came out playing in live bands, and, like, she didn't maybe love, like, hip-hop and the program drums as much as I did. And, you know, I was trying to, like, force that hand. And, of course, Lauryn Hill and "Miseducation" (ph) had just come out that was just this incredible synthesis of live and programmed, and we all were enamored with that.

But, yeah, it suddenly was. I realized I wasn't the most important person in the equation and actually - and I still hold that to this day. Like, if I'm working with an artist, you know, of course, if I have an idea I feel passionate about, I'm going to fight for it. But they're the one that has to go around singing that for the next two years or maybe the rest of their life. So it's like, OK, at the end, I will, you know, give that artist the final say if I haven't, whatever, pleaded my point strong enough. But, yeah, the collaboration thing was - that I learnt from that. But to be honest, like, growing up in a family of 10 siblings and sort of, like, constantly, you know, practicing diplomacy or whatever the hell it was, I think that my childhood, like, made me a good listener and understander. And that's kind of - that's an important tool for a music producer.

MOSLEY: What are some of the biggest DJing sins, in your opinion? I'll just say, like, I hate when a DJ does that - plays that horn, like (imitating horn).

RONSON: Oh, really? The air horn.

MOSLEY: It's, like, oh, my God.

RONSON: The klaxon. Yes. There's something about that that's sort of, like - it's a little bit like an extra explosion in a film, right? It's like, kind of like, all right, if you're not making me feel it enough with the music, like, I don't need the horns to be bullied into having a visceral emotion to this music. But I also kind of like the air horn. I mean...

MOSLEY: (Laughter) You do?

RONSON: ...It says something about it. Like, it feels very New York radio.

MOSLEY: Yeah. Yep.

RONSON: I - the other ones are, like - and I sort of talk about them because, you know, the book, I said "How To Be A DJ In '90s New York City" is the title because it's a little bit tongue-in-cheek. No one's ever going to be a DJ in '90s New York City. So - but there are a lot of things in this book that I feel like in any era might sort of, like, help out. So there's things like back in that era - my era, it was a cardinal sin to really play a record more than once in the night. Like, if there was a huge hit, to play it five times throughout the night was, like, this thing, like, oh, you're not good enough to, like - to rock a night with only playing the big records once. There was a bit of that sense. There was this thing, like, never play all the big records when you're the opener. In fact, you don't play any big records when you're the opener. I remember DJing...

MOSLEY: Like radio hits.

RONSON: Like any - yeah, any of the big club records. Like, I remember...

MOSLEY: OK.

RONSON: ...Opening for Funkmaster Flex and being so nervous to, like, play anything. Like, I didn't play anything from literally the past seven years or something. And then the idea of, like, you know, playing huge records to an empty room, like, trying to ignite a room before it's ready.

MOSLEY: Before the room is ready. So timing just is such a thing. Like, you have to know it. You have to be so attuned, which means you kind of have to be attuned to human behavior. And it's a sense. It's - is it something that can be taught?

RONSON: It's - I mean, that's why they call it, you know, the expression, reading a room. Like, it's like - I don't know if it literally goes back to DJing, but it's, like, reading the floor, reading the room, reading the dance floor. It's like, there's so much of it that's just - yes. It's the interplay between you and the crowd. There's - you could be in the best nightclub in the world with the best sound system. It doesn't matter if you - if it doesn't - if the crowd isn't with you and you don't have a relationship with them, that's what it's all comes down to, certainly for a great night.

MOSLEY: Mark Ronson, it's such a pleasure to talk to you, and thank you so much for this fun read.

RONSON: Thank you so much.

MOSLEY: Mark Ronson's new memoir about DJing in the '90s New York club scene is called "Night People."

Tomorrow on FRESH AIR, President Trump recently stepped up pressure on the Department of Justice to pursue his political enemies. One of them, former FBI Director James Comey, was indicted last week. Legal scholar and former U.S. Attorney Barbara McQuade joins us to talk about what this means for U.S. law and the precedent it sets. I hope you can join us.

To keep up with what's on the show and get highlights of our interviews, follow us on Instagram @nprfreshair.

(SOUNDBITE OF NIKKA COSTA SONG, "LIKE A FEATHER")

MOSLEY: FRESH AIR's executive producer is Danny Miller. Our technical director and engineer is Audrey Bentham. Our managing producer is Sam Briger. Our interviews and reviews are produced and edited by Phyllis Myers, Ann Marie Baldonado, Lauren Krenzel, Therese Madden, Monique Nazareth, Thea Chaloner, Susan Nyakundi and Anna Bauman. Our digital media producer is Molly Seavy-Nesper. Our consulting visual producer is Hope Wilson. Roberta Shorrock directs the show. With Terry Gross, I'm Tonya Mosley.

(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "LIKE A FEATHER")

COSTA: (Singing) Coming out of my wishing well, where only echoes lonely hear my prayers. I'm coming around to bending 'cause my resistance's been far too persistent. I've come too far to force it. So I'll watch it slide and land. I could come on strong and willful, but I'd rather watch it fall to the palm of my hand. And when I set it free, like a feather it will be. And when I rise to see it done, like whatever it will be. It will be. It will be, yeah. I'm taking a breather, baby, from sitting on pins waiting for my sky to fall.

Transcripts are created on a rush deadline, and accuracy and availability may vary. This text may not be in its final form and may be updated or revised in the future. Please be aware that the authoritative record of Fresh Air interviews and reviews are the audio recordings of each segment.