ISSUE 04
Mikey J: The Sonic Architect Moving Through Genres & Disciplines
The acclaimed producer and composer talks about his latest project Kneecap, cultural narratives, artistic authenticity, and his vision for the future of music-making.
Words by Loren Sunderland
Michael 'Mikey J' Asante has long been an understated force in British music and beyond, shaping sounds and stories with a sense of purpose and precision. Co-founder of the trailblazing hip-hop dance theatre company Boy Blue, Asante has been at the forefront of artistic innovation for over two decades, earning him an Olivier Award and a reputation as a multifaceted creative. From composing scores for Royal Opera House productions to creating soundtracks for film and TV, Mikey J’s career stands as a testament to his ability to blend genres, styles, and mediums seamlessly.
You may have heard Mikey J without even realising it. He has worked closely with rapper Kano, being part of multiple projects engineering and producing sounds for albums like Made in the Manor and London Town. He’s also worked with George the Poet, Delilah, Raleigh Ritchie, Estelle and Brian Eno for Netflix’s Top Boy. Across all these projects, and many more, a common thread emerges: Mikey J ensures his contributions are deeply collaborative, uniting visionaries across disciplines to tell stories that are both impactful and truthful.
Throughout our conversation, Asante remains refreshingly candid. Acknowledging the pressures of the industry, the necessity of making hard choices, and the importance of staying true to one’s voice in a landscape that often prioritises commercial appeal over substance. Yet his optimism about the evolving role of technology, including AI, offers a glimpse into his forward-thinking approach to creativity.
Photos by Dan J Burwood
Congratulations on your BIFA for Kneecap! How are you feeling? It’s only been a couple of days, how was the awards night?
Mikey J: Thank you. Yeah, I was just minding my business maybe a week or two ago, working on The Tempest with Jamie Lloyd at the moment at Drury Lane. I was getting ready in the morning, going about my day, and then I got a text from a friend saying, “Congratulations! Well done.” I was like, “What are you talking about?” They replied, “You’ve just won this BIFA.”
So I sent it to Richard and Simon and said, “Guys, it seems Kneecap has won.” I wasn’t sure if it was a joke or what. Turns out the craft awards are given earlier, before the main event, so we hadn’t missed anything. It made me think about how I got involved with the project. I was actually the third composer they approached. Initially, I wasn’t available because I was working on Free Your Mind with my company. They asked, and I thought it was great, but the timing wasn’t right.
Someone else came on board, but it didn’t work out. Eventually, Rich came back to me and said, “I knew from the beginning it had to be you. What can we do to make it work?” So I ended up doing it in 30 days in November. We had planned that month as a studio period, no pressure, just creating, and we slotted the project into that time.
“A friend told me recently, “Mikey, you’ve got to celebrate these things.” But my head is always on the next thing.”
It was intense. Then suddenly, you’re told you’ve won a BIFA. It’s surreal. Meeting the team earlier on and going through the process, especially with Rich, was organic. He was figuring out things like cue sheets as we went along, and the whole film had this energy and love before it won anything.
The night itself was surreal. I walked in already knowing we’d won. They did the craft winners at the start, showed a little VT, and then announced our names. I looked over, and someone was saying, “Table 63, you won.” Someone handed me the award, and it was like, “Oh, shit.”
Later, Rich won, the boys won, and then the whole film won. It turned into a crazy night. But in my head, I was already thinking about the next day. A friend told me recently, “Mikey, you’ve got to celebrate these things.” But my head is always on the next thing.
Kneecap is such a great film. The storytelling is so unique and fresh. These kinds of projects crop up every so often, and when they do, they feel like a gift because we need them.
Mikey J: Definitely. It drew you into what seemed like a debaucherous, wild ride, but at its heart was this indigenous language that’s being lost, along with the experiences of young people post-ceasefire. Over here in Britain, we think, “They’re good now,” but no, there’s a whole generation that feels totally displaced.
It reminded me of when I worked on Tree with Idris Elba and Kwame Kwei-Armah. Kwame went to South Africa to immerse himself, and he discovered that a whole faction of young people, post-Mandela and post-apartheid, didn’t feel any of the benefits we assumed they had.
It’s mind-blowing how we often think, “This chapter is closed, so everything must be okay now,” but it’s not. You’re drawn into this deeply challenging, focused ideology they had, but it’s wrapped in a high-energy, drama-filled story. That heart, that’s what made Kneecap so amazing.
“I had to decide where hip-hop fit in and which sub-genres could tell the story or capture the vibe of a scene.”
Let’s talk about the score. How did you approach capturing the energy and identity of the film? When I listened to the compilation, your music flowed seamlessly with the other tracks. It felt like the perfect wraparound for the story. How did you manage that, especially with only 30 days to work on it?
Mikey J: Thanks. Hats off to Rich, really. The temp score he put together was solid in terms of the overall idea, but I had to think more like a DJ than a composer for this. It was about considering the flow, switching between genres, and figuring out how to transition seamlessly.
Because of the tight timeline, I didn’t approach it linearly. I prioritised the big, pivotal tracks first, those “fulcrum” moments that set the tone for the rest of the film. For example, I had to decide where hip-hop fit in and which sub-genres could tell the story or capture the vibe of a scene.
There were tracks like “Dad’s Gone,” where Arlo talks about his father’s death—or rather, not dying and they watch a Cowboys and Indians film. The note was to make it feel country but also hip-hop. That was challenging. I experimented with guitar samples, used ShaperBox to manipulate them, and eventually found something that felt right. It had to have that country pace while keeping a hip-hop bounce.
Then there were moments within the film where I needed the music to be more comical and fun, so I leaned toward a more British sound. It was tricky because associating Britain with the Kneecap guys was challenging, but it worked.
Each track had its own identity. Unlike working on a series where themes recur, this required a new set of tools and ideas for every moment. Some tracks, like the western-inspired ones, were one-offs, so I had to switch gears constantly. The glue, I think, came from the DJ mindset, figuring out how to serve every moment like a wedding DJ serves a crowd. You’ve got a wide range of ages and expectations, and the event has to feel memorable.
You start with older grooves to engage the grandparents while still being danceable for the kids. Then, you move through the decades, tracing the couple’s life musically, before ending with something current or tied to their prime party years. It’s about staying on your toes, and that’s how I approached this score, ensuring each moment was served while maintaining the film’s overall energy.
Do you feel like this score reflects that sentiment of constant change? Was this project a first for you in terms of working under such tight constraints, or have you experienced that before?
Mikey J: Yeah, I mean…, that’s just regular bloody life! The idea of working in short spaces of time isn’t new, all the budgets are always small, and everyone always needs everything yesterday. So, that wasn’t far off from the usual experience.
From a dance perspective, it’s quite similar. We’re often mashing different songs or vibes into a smaller format, 10 minutes, or sometimes even two, to create a musical moment. So, this wasn’t entirely unfamiliar. But I’d definitely say I was more on my toes for this project because of the time constraints.
The bigger challenge, though, was slowly realising how important this work was. When I met the boys and Rich in Belfast, I came back knowing that if I took this on, I had to do a good job. These people had been with this project for so long, fought through so much, and now they were entrusting me to bring it home.
Liam said something at the awards that stuck with me: his mom had watched the film before I added my score, and then again after. She told him, “When you put your stuff in, it sounded like a proper thing.” That hit me. Moms—they have the ultimate power in life! Knowing that his mom saw and felt the difference really weighed on me. It wasn’t just about the time constraints, it was about the responsibility to get it right.
“It’s never about promoting myself. It’s about being part of the team and delivering something that truly works within the world they’ve created.”
Music plays such an essential role in film, doesn’t it? It shapes the viewer’s experience, their emotional takeaway, and helps push those stories and feelings through the door.
Mikey J: Absolutely. It makes you take the work seriously. Not that I don’t already, but it reinforces how much the right approach matters.
I’m always tinkering, thinking of the next thing, trying to find the real “pen” for a project. It’s never about promoting myself. It’s about being part of the team and delivering something that truly works within the world they’ve created.
The cast, for example, did so well. JJ especially—you watch him and wonder, “Is he a teacher or an actor?” He brought so much to his role. You could feel how much everyone pushed to be in this film and make it something special. That weight and dedication made this project cool to work on, despite the challenges.
I’d love to hear from your perspective how compositionally things change for you across these three mediums of film, TV and theatre, or if they don’t. Maybe they stay the same. What’s been your experience, and are there any key learnings from your career you’d like to share?
Mikey J: Yeah, for sure. TV always feels like you’re trying to catch up. And when I say TV, I mean it’s more streaming now, right? You’re always chasing because of how fragmented the process can be. For example, you’ve got multiple blocks, each with different directors, feeding on the music I provide, but they’re coming at it with their own perspectives.
So sometimes you’re essentially juggling four directors’ visions while trying to corral them into a cohesive long-form piece. You’re always trying to be mindful, open, and honest while building new relationships, whether it’s with a new editing team, a fresh set of directors, or even the executive producer. But honestly, it feels like you’re always chasing something like you’re never fully ahead of the game.
That’s not every project, though. Sometimes you get a fantastic team who just gets it, and the process feels seamless. But more often than not, the timing adds complexity. For example, on Gunpowder Siege for Sky History, we were working under a tight deadline for Guy Fawkes Night. Episode 1 was delayed and shifted to the end of the schedule, so suddenly I was jumping between Episode 3, and Episode 2, and collaborating with different directors and editors simultaneously. It’s constant movement, and you’ve got to stay nimble.
Theatre, on the other hand, is far more immediate. Take working with Jamie Lloyd, for example. He’ll ask, “Can this feel a bit more D?” and you’ve got to respond at the moment, experimenting live and adapting on the fly. It’s all now. And with Jamie’s process, where actors are often off-book early, things can change during rehearsal. We’ll pull things out or add elements in real-time. You’re responding to the energy in the room, with the whole team there, which is a very different dynamic compared to TV, where you might not meet anyone in person anymore—not even during spotting sessions.
Film, by contrast, feels a bit more relaxed. There’s more time to focus on the long-form idea. With Kneecap, for instance, it was the first film I’ve scored entirely by myself, top to bottom, without collaborative elements. The pace was slower, but the gravitas felt heavier, not because of the job itself, but because films typically have a longer development period. There’s so much weight riding on the final product.
Interestingly, while the film is more deliberate, TV can sometimes feel like scoring multiple films, three, four, even eight, back to back. Each medium has its challenges, but I think what’s been most rewarding is reaching a point where people are coming to me for my voice and my interpretation. It’s no longer, “We couldn’t get so-and-so; can you do something similar?” It’s about them trusting my ideas and saying, “Show us your take.”
That’s a great place to be. It doesn’t make the challenges any less, but it does make the work deeply fulfilling.
That feeling you mentioned, how they’re coming for you because they want your vision and approach, does that ever give you the internal feeling of, Oh no, I really have to show up now? Do you still feel that, or have you moved past it? I’d love to hear your thoughts because I feel like I can never shake that feeling myself!
Mikey J: Oh yeah. That never goes away. We were just talking about this earlier. If you’re not feeling challenged—like you’re not in the deep end—then you’re not advancing, right? So yeah, that feeling of needing to rise to the occasion is always there for me.
I think it shows up most in my prep work. I try to make sure my preparation is rock solid for every project, whether it’s theatre, TV, or film. I always approach it thinking, Okay, what tools are we using today? What’s the sound for this particular piece? The research phase is intense for me because I never want to feel like I’m repeating myself or getting stale. I don’t ever want to be comfortable.
Sure, I know my tools, but every project is a new challenge. I treat each day like I don’t know what I’m doing yet, and that keeps me sharp. So yeah, I feel that same intensity, maybe even more now. Awards, for example, only add to the pressure. Some people might see them as a celebration, but for me, it’s like, Okay, now even more eyes are on me. People will expect me to prove myself again. What do I have to say this time?
That’s not why I do the work, though. I stay in the studio, focused on learning and experimenting. I’m always refining my process, which is something Simon, my assistant, would back me up on. He’ll tell you I’m constantly changing how I approach things. Every project brings its demands, so I spend time upfront figuring out the best method before I even start.
That can be frustrating for directors or the team because results don’t always come quickly, but that development period is critical for me to feel confident in what I’m delivering. So yeah, the pressure is there, but honestly, I live for it.
And it sounds like that research and prep work gives you the confidence to go in ready, so even if things go sideways, you’ve got your foundation to fall back on.
Mikey J: Exactly. If things go off course, you’ve already built the groundwork to adapt and move quickly. That’s the key.
This year has been amazing for you—so much going on, and I’m excited to see what’s next. What are you hoping to achieve over the next few months and into next year? Are there any creative opportunities you’re particularly looking to take on?
Mikey J: I think for me, it’s about getting stronger. And by that, I mean efficiency, refining my processes and becoming an even better version of what I’m doing right now. This year has been incredible, and when I look at the projects I’ve worked on, it’s almost overwhelming. I look at the site, and there’s this timeline of 2024, and I’m like, Wow, I don’t even remember some of this—it’s been that intense.
But going forward, I want to focus on being more useful. By that, I mean making my process seamless for collaborators. If you’re coming into a project with me, I want you to know that part of the work is already sorted, you don’t have to worry about the music. I want to get to a place where there’s always content ready, where I’ve scheduled the time to be experimental and creative, but also consistent.
I’d like to lean further into experimentation, really explore what my practice looks like, and make it richer and more dynamic. I also want to open up a bit more. Next year, I want to share more of the process, to inspire others and show how they can tap into their creativity. My philosophy has always been that if you get the ideas inside of you out, you make room for new ones. I live by that.
Too often, people think that creativity has to come with anxiety or this overwhelming intensity. And while it’s true that sometimes that pressure brings out great work, I want the people I collaborate with to feel like, Okay, everything else might be chaotic, but at least the music is handled.
I want them to feel confident that I’ve prepared everything, and that I’ve given them a broad palette to work with. And I want them to know they can come back to me for adjustments or changes without stress.
On a personal level, I also want to focus more on my own projects, and music that I feel needs to be out in the world. So, yeah, next year is about balancing efficiency, collaboration, and more personal expression. Just more of everything. More experimentation, more creativity, more joy in the process.
“We’re all remixes of what came before us. Fill yourself with that history, then ask, “What’s missing, and what can I add to the world?”
Are there any specific genres, stories, or even directors that you’d say, “Damn, one day I’d love to do that,” or “I want to take on a massive blockbuster”? Something that would make you say, “I’m so glad I did that”?
Mikey J: In five years, I’d love to have my own creative space, a hub for teaching, experimenting, and creating. Right now, I’m renting, but having a dedicated space to build and collaborate is the goal. A blockbuster could help fund that vision.!
I’m drawn to people who want to step out of the box and challenge norms with innovative stories. There’s so much happening, AI, new tools, and fresh ideas, and it’s an exciting time to explore. Genre-wise, I’d love to tackle horror or thrillers, which are naturally experimental and boundary-pushing. I recently watched Smile and Smile 2 and loved their fresh take on the viral concept—those kinds of ideas inspire me.
My goal is to create work that surprises people, something versatile and unexpected. I want them to experience a project, not realising it’s mine, and later think, “Oh wow, Mikey did that.” Ultimately, I’d love to contribute to a modern-day classic, a project people look back on as a pivotal moment in film. It’s less about specific directors and more about being part of bold, forward-thinking projects.
You’ve worked on narratives rich in history and culture, always with sensitivity and authenticity. What draws you to these projects, and how do they align with your creative vision?
Mikey J: It’s about authenticity and energy, feeling the project’s sincerity and the team’s shared passion. I’ve had jobs that were just stepping stones, but I’m most drawn to spaces where people genuinely aim for something unique and fresh, not just extracting my “source.” If a project doesn’t feel right or if I can’t elevate it, I’ll pass. That’s what drew me to Kneecap, the authenticity of the story and the team’s approach.
For those starting out, what advice would you give about finding their voice?
Mikey J: It’s a sacrifice. My early years were tough, feeling broke and unsure, but I focused on creating work that stood out. Instead of trying to be “totally unique,” embrace interpolation and sampling. We’re all remixes of what came before us. Fill yourself with that history, then ask, “What’s missing, and what can I add to the world?”
As you refine your vision, the right people and opportunities will come. Focus on adding value, not fitting in. For me, the dream was always to have a distinct sound, something unmistakably mine, and that takes dedication and introspection. Start early, make sacrifices, and always train. Stay ready, like Mayweather’s 24/7 approach to boxing. I’m always in the studio, staying prepared for what’s next.