IN CONVERSATION WITH BABYFACE

It was the summer of 1989, and Antonio “L.A.” Reid and Kenneth “Babyface” Edmonds wanted out of Los Angeles. Since unleashing their 1987 breakthrough, “Rock Steady,” for polished vocal group vets The Whispers, the rising production team had put the music industry on notice with a flurry of hits that were as infectious as they were mature and sexy. L.A. and Babyface had elevated California girl Pebbles to a platinum sprinter (“Girlfriend,” “Mercedes Boy”); transformed ex-New Edition bad boy Bobby Brown into a full-blown megastar (“Don’t Be Cruel,” “Every Little Step,” “Roni”); and taken newcomer siren Karyn White to anthemic heights (“Superwoman”).

This was the high-flying age of the super producer that saw heavyweights like Quincy Jones, Prince, Narada Michael Walden, Nile Rodgers, Jimmy Jam & Terry Lewis and Teddy Riley take turns ruling radio airwaves and the Billboard charts. L.A. and Babyface were now running with the big boys, but they had grown increasingly disenchanted with the claustrophobic confines of Los Angeles’ “Let’s do lunch” music scene. It was the perfect time to establish their own label: LaFace Records.

“I think the earthquakes would have been another reason to say, ‘Okay, we definitely have to get out of here,’” jokes Babyface more than three decades later from his Los Angeles home (ironically). The same year that he kicked off his multiplatinum solo run with the 1989 rhythm and romance classic Tender Love, the Indianapolis native and his Cincinnati partner were heading into uncharted territory.

A deal with MCA quickly collapsed when Irving Azoff exited the label. Other bosses—Warner Bros.’ Mo Ostin, A&M’s Herb Alpert and Jerry Moss and David Geffen—politely declined. The respected African American music-industry godfather Clarence Avant suggested that the pair meet up with Arista Records founder and head honcho Clive Davis. A deal was struck. Davis funded Reid and Edmonds’ new venture with an opening sum of $1 million. LaFace was born.

“We wanted to go to a place where we could create on our own, where we could be a big fish in a small pond,” recalls Babyface of the life-changing move. “Atlanta just made sense. It already had a rich history. What also made us look into going to Atlanta was that prices of the houses were great. We thought we could buy our first house.”

Atlanta, the unapologetically Southern Black cradle of the Civil Rights movement (Martin Luther King Jr. served as pastor of the city’s Ebenezer Baptist Church following his father, Reverend Martin Luther King, Sr.), is now the epicenter of hip-hop’s dominant commercial takeover, which over the last decade has produced such headliners as Young Thug, Migos, Gunna, City Girls, Killer Mike, Lil Baby, Future and Latto. But before the ATL became a major entertainment hub in music and television—Atlanta boasts the second-highest number of soundstages in the U.S.—it was a city primed for an artistic awakening.

“Atlanta was not quite ready for us,” Reid said in his 2016 tell-all memoir, Sing to Me. “There was no music business. There was no place you could rent a luxury car. Hell, there weren’t even rehearsal studios or equipment rentals.”

Luckily there was an embarrassment of exceptional local talent. In 1991, LaFace signed a spunky, genre-shaking, hip-hop/pop trio called TLC, who single-handedly redefined the girl group. A year later, the label inked a deal with yin-and-yang duo Outkast, who would go on to become one of hip-hop’s most transcendent acts, and soon picked up Big Boi and Andre 3000’s Dungeon Family cohort, the straight-no-chaser, socially conscious outfit Goodie Mob. With the emergence of soul-pop torch song siren Toni Braxton and R&B crossover idol USHER, LaFace boasted arguably the ultimate one-two punch.

“Atlanta is the most important city today in the Black music business, and a key city in bringing back R&B, mainly because of LaFace,” The Death of Rhythm and Blues author and screenwriter Nelson George told The Atlanta Journal Constitution in a 1994 profile on Reid. By 2000, LaFace had sold more than 50 million records.

Of course, LaFace wasn’t the first to introduce the sound of Atlanta to the masses. OG hip-hop pioneers like Mo-Jo, Raheem the Dream and M.C. Shy-D showcased the city’s promise early on, birthing the ATL’s early 808 bass-heavy sound. In 1990 a young Jermaine Dupri had just broken into the biz with his first production, Silk Tymes Leather’s “Do Your Dance (Work It Out),” before following LaFace’s lead with his own powerhouse imprint, So So Def. And 19-year-old studio wizard Dallas Austin had already found platinum success with the kids group Another Badd Creation.

But LaFace’s commercial ascendance was different. They were overwhelming proof that the South could more than hold its own against the East and West Coast label monopolies. It’s hard to imagine the ATL hip-hop explosion of Lil Jon & the Eastside Boyz, Young Jeezy, T.I., The Ying Yang Twins, Ciara, Crime Mob and D4L in the 2000s without the early contributions of LaFace.

Since the company’s 2011 shuttering, LaFace’s founders have taken different paths. L.A., the erstwhile music mogul responsible for signing such headlining superstars as P!nk, Avril Lavigne, Rihanna, Justin Bieber and the aforementioned Future, has recently reunited with USHER for a new chapter via their jointly founded label, Mega.

The prolific Babyface, who has penned and produced over 200 Top 10 Billboard R&B singles, more than 50 top 10 Billboard Hot 100 hits (including 16 #1 songs) is on the road on tour and is still knocking out bops. In 2023 he earned his 13th Grammy for his co-writing work on SZA’s massive sing-along hit, “Snooze.” “I still get the invitation to walk into rooms and create,” Babyface says. “That’s
my blessing.”

Babyface sets the record on how LaFace Records changed the trajectory of Black music and beyond.

Take us back to that pivotal moment in the summer of ’89. Who came up with the life-changing idea to move to Atlanta and build LaFace Records?

I think everybody—L.A., myself and Pebbles—had their own reasons why we wanted to go. But if I’m being honest, LaFace was L.A.’s dream and something he really wanted to do. I was more of the artist, songwriter and producer. There wasn’t a whole lot of investigation in terms of how Atlanta worked and what kind of support we could get. We had already signed [the duo] Damian Dame out of California. We had these records that were on the radio, and we were looking hot, but not necessarily feeling hot. At least I wasn’t.

You are talking about a decision that would go on to shift the balance of power in the music industry from New York and Los Angeles to the South.

There was no time to think about that. We were always moving on to the next. While we had this movement going we kind of just said, “Let’s do this.” L.A. and Pebbles were together at that point. She was very much a huge part of LaFace. When we got to Atlanta, Pebbles was instrumental in helping with the development of artists like TLC. We also brought [The Deele member, vocalist and collaborator] Daryl Simmons down to Atlanta as well. It was kind of a family move at that point.

While Atlanta was known as ground zero for the Civil Rights Movement and as a city where Black political power was a reality, there wasn’t much of an infrastructure for a fully realized music scene. How did LaFace go about changing that?

I think we were very lucky. We were not completely aware of what Atlanta was about, but when we got there, we saw how welcoming it was. And there were some great producers already down there. Dallas Austin was in Atlanta. A very young Jermaine Dupri was in Atlanta. Organized Noize as well. There were a number of people we could work with, so it wasn’t going to be completely on our backs to build a scene and do the music. LaFace was quickly becoming a label in that sense, but the talent was just waiting to be found. LaFace just happened to be at the right place at the right time.

How modest of you.

Really, it just happened organically. L.A. and I did have it in our minds that we wanted to become the Motown of Atlanta. We certainly had that dream, but when that dream is happening, and you are in the process of working, you don’t really see or feel that it’s happening. L.A. worked his ass off trying to be a label head, constantly moving things forward finding and signing new artists. We have to give him his props in terms of coming out of LaFace as not just a producer, but as a top executive who has gone on to run some major labels. That was not necessarily in the game plan.

It also helped that you guys had established enough clout to have a global music icon like Whitney Houston fly down to Atlanta to record tracks for her 1990 album, I’m Your Baby Tonight, which saw her reconnect with her R&B roots. How much confidence did that give you in terms of establishing the L.A. and Babyface brand in the ’90s?

For Whitney to fly down to Atlanta was big for us. But that was a lot of Clive Davis telling her, “You have to go down to Atlanta to record.” Fortunately, at that time Whitney was very good friends with Pebbles. I remember walking into the studio and playing a couple of songs for Whitney. There was one song she said no to for years called “Why Does It Hurt So Bad,” but Clive told me to hold it. A few years later, “Why Does It Hurt So Bad” appeared on Whitney’s [all-star, all-female] Waiting to Exhale soundtrack, which I produced. There were these huge moments that were happening in our careers that we certainly thought we were huge, but we were too busy to really soak it all up.

Earlier you mentioned TLC. Did you envision T-Boz, Left Eye and Chilli having such an immense commercial and cultural impact straight out of the gate with their debut, Ooooooohhh... On the TLC Tip, in 1991?

We had no idea. TLC was so unique, so different. Thank God we had the likes of Dallas to help guide them on their first album. And Pebbles was instrumental in helping to shape TLC in the very beginning. Everybody was chipping in. Everybody had something to bring to the table and it helped make LaFace a great label.

LaFace hit the jackpot again with the signing of Toni Braxton, who made her debut on the 1992 triple-platinum Boomerang soundtrack. What did you make of the massive hype swirling around Braxton, who early on was being compared to the legendary likes of Whitney and Anita Baker?

That was on purpose. That was our belief that it could happen. Toni came in singing songs that were written for Anita Baker, songs that she’d passed on. Those songs being “Love Should Have Brought You Home” and “You Mean The World To Me.” Those songs launched Toni Braxton’s career. Toni was ready—itching to be a star. When she finally took a bite, she did not let go.

I think the most surprising legacy of LaFace was opening the door for Atlanta’s Southern hip-hop takeover with the 1993 release of Outkast’s Player’s Ball. Yet that breakthrough came close to never happening because of LaFace’s reluctance to sign Big Boi and Andre.

To be honest, Outkast was a group that a lot of people did not see coming. You have to remember, when it came to the hip-hop side of things we were still kind of unaware. I was the R&B-pop dude. But something magical happened when we signed Outkast. It was no different than when we found Usher—and the time that it took for him to become USHER.

LaFace did not give up on Usher after his self-titled 1994 debut failed to connect with listeners. That says a lot about the power of great artist development, which seems to be a lost art form these days.

But that sculpting was just as much on Usher as it was with anybody else. I think the continued relationships he has kept with producers and songwriters like Jermaine Dupri and Bryan-Michael Cox… they are the secret weapons. Everybody has a gig. And Usher’s gig was to become the superstar he is today.

Dupri credited you in a 2017 Drink Champs interview with giving him the fuel to make So So Def a powerhouse label during a time when he was flying high with the 1992 chart-topping success of his kiddie rap protégés Kris Kross. Is it true that you referred to their massive #1 debut single “Jump” as a “little record” the first time you two met?

When Jermaine tells that story, he tells it like I said it almost in a mean way [laughs]. But the whole thing was to push him. It was to say, “No, don’t just lean on that one hit. What do you have next?” I’ve seen so many writers and producers that get that one hit and don’t do anything afterwards. They just ride off of that one hit. So I’m glad that Jermaine took it however he took it. If those words helped him get to where he is today I’m glad that I was one of those people that inspired him, because Jermaine is great. His work ethic is amazing.

Of course we have to talk about the legal battles TLC and Braxton had with LaFace. What were your thoughts when you heard their claims that they weren’t getting paid fair compensation for their work?

For some people LaFace wasn’t always a great story. There were things happening that I wasn’t aware of. I found out later that some stories weren’t amazing, weren’t positive. But there was some positivity that came out outside of the label in terms of LaFace getting the ball rolling for Atlanta.

Raheem the Dream, one of Atlanta’s early hip-hop pioneers, told me, “LaFace showed the whole world what Atlanta could be.” What comes to mind when you hear such glowing praise?

It means a lot. The whole Southern hip-hop thing happening today comes out of that. We can say that LaFace at least helped open up that door. You hear the stories when you run into a Jeezy or a T.I. and they tell you how much respect they had for the label and how much respect they had for you. You don’t know those things if you are not around these artists. So to [witness] how LaFace would go on to inspire all of these talented people, that’s an amazing thing to see.

Do you trip on the fact that there are kids today who know you as the co-writer of SZA’s 2023 hit, “Snooze”?

I just feel blessed to even be in the room with artists like SZA, the Bruno Mars and Ariana Grandes of the world… whoever I am working with. There’s something about artists like myself, Dupri and Bryan where we don’t call it quits. We keep going.