DJ Ryan Raddon's shows have become an international destination — he
has two New Year's Eve gigs — even as he tries to put July's Hollywood
Boulevard debacle behind him.
As
Kaskade, Ryan Raddon is at the forefront of an
electronica wave that's sweeping
pop music and upending underground dance culture. But after a year when he did almost everything right as a
DJ and producer, he's still trying to shake the one concert that went wrong.
The San Clemente-based artist was among the biggest stories in
dance music
this year, reportedly commanding up to six figures per gig and
conquering the global circuit with a double album, "Fire & Ice,"
that redefined his near-decade-long career and landed in the Billboard
Top 20 (with its
iTunes
release hitting No. 4 on those charts). DJ Times deemed him the best DJ
in the world, and he headlined global festivals, including the
groundbreaking IDentity dance tour. He'll cap the year with two
headlining
New Year's Eve
performances, jetting between sets at the White Wonderland rave in
Anaheim and at Marquee in Las Vegas, the site of his popular year-long
monthly club residency.
But in July, at the L.A. premiere of a
documentary film on the
Electric Daisy Carnival,
things went awry. Raddon tweeted that he would be spinning atop an
ad-hoc mobile stage on Hollywood Boulevard. Promised "ME+BIG
SPEAKERS+MUSIC=BLOCK PARTY
!!!,"
thousands of fans swamped the street, leading to a confrontation with
police, a shutdown of the boulevard and the media calling it a "riot."
Fearful theater chains canceled subsequent screenings of the film, and a
public debate flared anew about whether dance music attracts a volatile
audience.
For an artist who prides himself on clean living and a relentless work
ethic, it was a low moment that, he believes, missed the point of his
music.
"It was disappointing on so many levels," he said. Raddon admits that he
"didn't anticipate the draw. But it was a bummer how it got played in
the media. I always get angry when people make dance music out to be
something cheap, where they think it's all about drugs or no one would
come."
That such a mishap didn't faze his career is a testament to his demand
as a DJ and to the rising tide of dance music worldwide. This coming
year may be when Kaskade obliterates the last walls between orthodox
rave music and mainstream pop. And despite the Hollywood incident, it
might also be the year he helps change the genre's decadent reputation
into something more wholesome and maybe even spiritual.
As his recent album title suggests, Raddon's career as Kaskade has been
defined by seemingly incompatible elements. Raised in the Chicago
suburbs, Raddon was brought up in the Mormon faith, attending
Brigham Young
University and the University of Utah, where he refrained from the
stereotypical dance-culture staples of drugs and drinking. He traveled
to
Japan for a Mormon mission and speaks fluent Japanese.
After school, he began releasing singles upon taking a job with the San
Francisco dance label Om and released his first full-length in 2003,
putting out albums roughly every two years and moving to the influential
Ultra label in 2006. As he entered the top flight of global DJs,
however, the 40-year-old snowboarder and married father of three kept
strong ties to his faith. He cites the atmosphere and emotion of
religious music as one of his chief influences as a dance producer.
"There are real similarities. Listening to music is such an uplifting,
spiritual thing," Raddon said. "It's far-fetched to some, I understand
that. But the way dance music brings people together, it's not a big
stretch from hymns."
Incantatory, melodic vocals are what sets his tracks apart from the
morass of dance peers. Pop has thoroughly accepted dance music sounds,
and artists like
Katy Perry and
Lady Gaga
(Raddon has remixed for both) have deployed them for huge hits. But the
reverse has been slower to take hold — orthodox dance producers usually
structure songs around micromanaged samples and long-simmering bass
drops rather than verses and choruses.
Raddon's sound has been arcing in a songwriterly direction for years,
and on "Fire & Ice," he fully settled into a template where he uses
the inventiveness of dance and the hit-making aspects of pop.
He collaborated with rising artists as disparate as the ADD-dubstep producer
Skrillex, peacocking rock band
Neon Trees and the
Eminem and
Dr. Dre vocalist
Skylar Grey,
alongside dance-scene singers like Haley Gibby and Becky Jean Williams.
His forthcoming single, "Room for Happiness," rides big washes of
synths and Grey's whispered encouragement — "Don't be fooled by your
emptiness, there's so much more room for happiness." "Lessons in Love"
has the seductive sonic energy needed on a packed dance floor but with
the lyrical self-doubt of an angsty rock band.
"In the beginning, I was so hung up on production, tweaking perfect
sounds and spending hours getting the right snare drum," Raddon said.
"Now I'd rather be involved in a song where the words and melody mean
more. It took Lady Gaga to really put a light on that, where you can
have artistry in a fun dance song. She made the underground pay
attention."
That growing underground may be the biggest development in the live music business.
Dance music has long been the default mode of European pop, and in the
last few years American stars have caught up sonically. But the more
interesting aspect might be the sweep of festivals like Electric Daisy
(which played in Las Vegas this year to bigger daily crowds than
Coachella) and young artists like Skrillex and
Deadmau5,
who became amphitheater-filling stars. Kaskade's Marquee residency
heralded not just a major artist growing his reputation but an entire
business model in which dance music is a self-sufficient entertainment
attraction in the U.S.
"He was a top priority for us to join the DNA of what Marquee was all
about," said Jason Strauss, co-founder of Strategic Hospitality Group,
which manages Marquee and other popular Las Vegas and New York clubs
including Tao, Avenue and Lavo.
Marquee, which opened in January, invested $3 million in an LED screen
to showcase visuals for Kaskade's sets, which regularly sold out its
3,000-guest capacity and became an international destination.
Strauss notes the sex appeal of a Kaskade set, citing his singles'
sultry vocals and his "fierce female fan loyalty." Promoters know that
where the women go, money follows. Thus, Raddon can now reportedly
demand up to $200,000 a night for tour dates, which require few of the
logistical trappings and financial outlays of a touring rock band.
But what about that mission? Dance music is America's most important new
sound and scene, but it's also still battling a rowdy reputation. The
kind it might take a God-fearing, bass-dropping teetotaler to undo.
"It's still shocking to me to see this acceptance," he says of
electronica's popularity. "I love this music so much, and I didn't think
this day was coming."
