The transformation of Terrace Martin

"We've had the legend of Robert Johnson wrong this whole time. The deal he made at the crossroads wasn't with some mythical devil at all. The truth is he sold his songs i.e. his soul to a predatory music industry. A devil that would outlive him by four score and eight years. A hellhound that would generate billions off the blues he suffered and sold for decimals on the dollar."

"None of that had truly occurred to me until my Zoom call ended with producer and multi-instrumentalist Terrace Martin, the cat who hatched a 21st-century jazz revival, spearheaded by he and his West Coast Get Down superfriends, before injecting it pure-and-uncut into rap's main artery. His co-conspirators cover every corner of Black music: Snoop, Lalah, Quik, Glasper, YG, SZA, Thundercat, Kendrick, Kamasi, Stevie (yes, Wonder), Herbie (yesss, Hancock). And those are just the household names."

"Even with all that collaboration to his credit, the only deal Martin honors is the one he struck with the Creator. He mentions his "deal with God" so much over the course of our 68-minute convo that it starts to feel like a prayer. Something he repeats not only to ground himself, but to smudge the room and ward off temptation. It even guided him through his own crossroads: At age 9, when he counted bankrobbing among his most promising career options."

"In seventh grade, when he prayed for "something that I could be passionate about." Even as a young adult, when his first day working a low-wage day job quickly became his last. "It was Central Data Telemarketing in Van Nuys. And the dude said, 'If you want to use the bathroom, you have to raise your hand.' So I raised my hand and kept walking, bro. I drove straight to Snoop's house and said, 'Man, I got to do beats. What the f***?'""

Robert Johnson’s crossroads story is presented as an incorrect understanding, replaced by the idea that he sold his songs and soul to a predatory music industry. The industry is described as outliving him and profiting massively from the blues he suffered and sold for little. The narrative connects this metaphor to Terrace Martin, a producer and multi-instrumentalist associated with a 21st-century jazz revival and West Coast collaborations. His collaborators span major Black music figures across genres. Martin’s only honored deal is described as a “deal with God,” repeated to ground himself, ward off temptation, and guide him through crossroads moments. Examples include childhood bank robbery thoughts, praying for passion in seventh grade, and leaving a low-wage telemarketing job to pursue beats.

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