DISCOGNITION
I met Chad Vasquez—also known as Discognition—on the floor at Beacon during a Pinkowitz set during that first week of July when Sky Terrace brought Wassu to town. Sure, I knew who he was. I’m not Anjunafamily, but I’m at least Anjun-adjacent–it’s difficult not to be, these days. I was holding a Joey Parms Margherita and he was grooving to my right, just like the rest of us. Over the past few months, including one much-needed pep talk on the Beacon backbenches, I’ve realized that this effusive everyman vibe is just who he is. Chad is not a Chad. His release history is expansive. The likelihood that two tracks picked randomly from his catalogue would have the same mood, vibe, or even genre is slim. He ranges from dark progressive to peak-time melodic, a bit of jazz piano over here, highkey R&B-styling over there. You can’t pinpoint him anywhere, and so the range of labels that have signed him —Purified, Anjunabeats, Monstercat, Sekora—feels natural. Normal. Here’s the thing: alongside his extensive musical training and apparently effortless versatility, Chad’s giving vision in plenty of other areas, too. He’s got a formidable plant game, he makes handcrafted jewelry, he’s a six-year vegan, and his style game is unfair. If I read all those qualities on a list, I’d admittedly conclude that the person holding them might be on the wrong side of eccentric, and I’d even think they’d have a right to be.
And yet—I have yet to meet an artist that’s nearly as approachable.
His social media game is one of the best I’ve seen. Helpful, humorous, and human, he shares practical advice and tongue-in-cheek commentary along with sneak peeks at IDs he composes in a coffee shop near his office. But there’s also something relatable about the times he shares about reluctance, or fear, or hesitation, or writer’s block. He shares the specter of self-doubt with his followers just often enough for us to keep in mind that this is the cost of a creative life. He reminds us that setbacks are a consequence of—not a conflict with—your love of the game.
Listen to Chad talk product, process, and attitude in the latest Read On:
Hey, thanks for talking to me! I’ve been all over the place for a month. So: I like to do sort of a deep dive with the press material, and you did a Westword article a couple years ago . One of the things that stuck out to me was that you’ve got a bit of a DDR background. I just have to laugh, because my boyfriend and his best friend are super into DDR and it’s like… a secret cult. Once you realize someone’s into it–it’s on, you know?
Yeah, definitely! It’s a lot of fun.
I think the same thing could be said about some of these other bits of your journey, like starting out producing trap and bass– they’re kind of tight-knit fan bases, and yet here you are doing progressive, on Purified and more deep house with Sky Terrace and on Sekora. So, it’s interesting to me that you came to the bass capital to produce melodic. Does that have anything to do with the melodic vibes picking up in Denver?
It’s kind of a long story, but yeah. I started doing bass music when I started DJing in about 2010. In Columbus, where I’m from, it’s like that’s all there is. There was Trance Tuesday, but that was it. I enjoyed it, don’t get me wrong—I did it for seven years, but I always found myself moving toward the more melodic house. I found Silk Music back before it was Monstercat, and I started diving deep.
From there, I thought, well there’s really no market for that in Columbus. I moved to LA and was there for three years, and then the world fell apart for Covid. But in 2020, the first track I wrote and got signed—it got signed to Purified, which was just like a half court shot.
Through COVID I connected with Evan Tramontana who goes by EMATA, here in Denver. I had a couple other friends who were like—Dude, why are you in LA? Come to Denver, this is where the music is at. So I moved to Denver. It was April 2021, and I’ve been here ever since.
As far as if I think Denver is the bass capital? I mean, I haven’t been to a ton of bass shows here in Denver, but they’re all over the place. But I will say Columbus is great, and there’s a reason Excision picked Ohio for Lost Lands.
When I first met you, I had a bone to pick about wanting to write more about Denver’s house. I think there’s a clear line, but it’s starting to blur a bit in Denver. So—do you think Denver’s also a hub for the melodic styles, too?
I think bass rules the city. But when you get outside of that scene, there’s so much more going on here. All Day I Dream is arguably the biggest organic house label in the world, and out of everywhere they could go in the United States, they come here. Same thing with Anjuna. It’s a telltale sign they’re making money here, which means people are going.
Bass is the most popular genre in the country at the moment, because it’s so prominent. But for a lot of people, that’s also their intro to dance music. Then, they’re like—“I’m going to go over to the house stage.” Then, “Oh, this is pretty vibey.” And then people start to fall into that. So, I think Denver is a hub for dance music in general.
I’ll say that in my short time in LA—of course dance music goes through there. But I’d argue that Denver gets so many shows, and we have so many more venues to go to. I don’t know about the underground scene in LA, but as far as the mainstream goes, Denver has it, in my opinion.
I think you’re right. I mean, when I was living in California, I was up in the Bay and it felt like we got better shows than LA. I do remember going to EDC at the Coliseum, so that was kind of cool. It was the first time I saw Above and Beyond, and that actually brings me to another of my questions. Because now, people are finding all these different ways to relate to the Anjunafamily. So I’m wondering if you could tell me a little about what it’s like to be part of Anjuna on a different level from most of us. I heard the way you met Marsh was interesting—how did that start??
Discognition plays Death Cab For Cutie, “I Will Possess Your Heart (Dwelyr Remix),” 1 July 2023 at Beacon, Denver.
I think that’s true—I’ve met some people lately who are really brand conscious. And I get it—when you’re trying to establish a name, a sound is important. But I wanted to talk about recent releases. I’ve heard a lot of the influences you talk about up there. Like, definitely the Aaliyah—that vocal in Love Language, it’s close to that nineties R&B diva vibe. But then you go back to older tracks like First Contact, and Believe In Me, and they’re way darker. So—can you talk about the direction you’re currently working with?
I never really know what I’m going to come up with in the studio. It’s kind of whatever my mood is, in the moment. First Contact was fun, because that was a track where I was like—I’m going to write something exactly how I want it. If nobody else wants it, that’s okay. I got it out of my system. And AVA Deep ended up liking it and threw it on an EP.
Right now I’m in a really, really progressive mood. I wouldn’t call these tracks bangers, but they’re not deep, either. It’s progressive house. But you look back at Montezuma and Black Rose of Olympus… that’s straight up organic house.
I try not to pigeonhole myself, but I do try to keep it adjacent. The one I just signed to Enormous Chilled is a lot more progressive than Overcomplicate It. That one, I was experimenting a lot with house just for fun. And those soulful vocals—they speak to everybody. I think a lot of people are throwing back to those nineties vibes, and that was the inspiration for Overcomplicate It. There’s a time for dark, intense moments, but at the end of the day, if you can’t dance to it in some shape or form, then what are you doing? That’s just my opinion.
Me: Well—I mean, I think for the type of diversity you have in your production, it might have to be pretty organized and dedicated in the studio. I think I’m learning enough to know that in this industry, an affable demeanor and the musical versatility isn’t always easy.
I wake up every single morning at six o’clock and I do my morning routine. Every track of mine you’ve ever heard has been made using headphones and a laptop. Mostly in a coffee shop. I don’t have studio monitors or use a midi keyboard. But every day I try to make a loop as an idea, and I always start with chords. I feel like you get the most feeling out of a chord progression. Then I’ll build the bass line, and then I’ll add drums and everything else. Chords are key, and I build a lot of different stuff around that.
So—essentially, you can build a lot on a framework of that sort of discipline, or routine.
Exactly. Early on, I wasn’t genre-focused at all. But I wasn’t submitting to labels. As I started to get more focused, I feel like the diversity is maybe more of a hindrance. But I’m doing my best to stay true to myself and not get discouraged. I mean, Marsh has a style, Seven Lions has a style. But there are some artists, like Feed Me, his new EP is so varied, but somehow, it’s still him.
So, I’m striving for something like that. I can make an organic track, or deep house, or progressive. There are different genres, but you can still tell it’s me. At this moment, yeah, it’s more of a hindrance, but as I go down the line, I think it will be a strong suit, because you’re not getting the same thing out of me every time. It’s different styles, but the goal is to have something that speaks to people.
Me: I love how you’re picking out my questions before I ask them. I think you’re sort of known for “vibing,” or just being out on the floor. Like, you do you, you know? And your social media presence is the same. So I guess— do you have a philosophy of relatability with your fans?
I think the thought process is something like, “Never trust a skinny cook.” There’s a time and place for green room and networking, sure. But for most of us, the reason why we pursue a creative life is because we were on the dance floor feeling it, and we wanted to be a part of the process from the other side. My goal is to make others feel and be at one with the music. So on the other side, I want to be around the crowd’s energy and see what they’re feeling.
I think that brings it full circle to Anjuna, again. Like Jody Wisternoff and James Grant are as big as they are, and they’re always in the crowd. Thousands of people are going to recognize them, but they don’t care, they’re down there to be in the moment with everyone else. That’s why we all started doing this.
So I think my philosophy is really to be a part of it from all angles. It’s something I really never noticed at bass shows, and maybe that’s because it’s a totally different environment. I never saw artists going out and hanging out in the crowd—I mean, I saw it a lot less. I just think that it’s important to be involved in all parts of a night. And I love it when headliners show up for openers. It shows support, and community. It’s willingness, and caring for the culture.
Everybody was doing COVID live streams, and I’d just moved to Denver. A mutual friend of mine and Marsh had asked, “Hey, you just moved to Denver, right? Marsh is going to be in Denver, but doesn’t want to miss his livestream. Can he come use your setup?”
And I’m like, “Hell yeah, he can come use my setup.” So he ended up sitting in my office and DJing to all his fans. That was in 2021, and he’s exploded since then. It’s crazy to think about that. I sat down with him, we became friends. From there, I connected with him to end up opening the show for him and Nox Vahn, which was the Global pre-party for that year.
As far as being in the AnjunaFamily, it’s one of those things where everyone is there for the right reasons. It’s a party, but NOT a party, if that makes sense. And for a lot of people that are going to these shows, this music has completely changed their lives. I don’t think it would be hard to find somebody to say it actually saved their life. There’s a deep connection to the music, and most of the people feel the same way.
I’ve definitely heard that before—I remember it used to be called “Cry Trance.” And I think that real emotion—I think it resonates with people. Like, not just one extreme or another—a genuine interplay.
Exactly. Everybody’s bonding over this shared love of the music, and that’s something I didn’t feel at bass shows. Bass shows are about rage, head banging, all of that, whereas the Anjunadeep shows are about connecting with the music on a spiritual level. That’s not to say people enjoying bass can’t have the same types of experiences. I would just say it’s more prominent in the Anjuna community.
I think it can resonate with a lot of people whose background isn’t necessarily in dance music, and who found that emotion in different places. This is something I talked about with Alex Maya—Black Wands—also. This idea of major influences outside of dance music.
I’ve actually been listening to dance music since I was super young. I credit my mom for my music diversity. I remember the moment she bought Tweekend by The Crystal Method. I was like—“What is this? This is awesome.” And then, back when people had six CD-changers in their cars, she’d put another CD in there and it would be Disturbed, or Static X, and it would go on and be Aaliyah and Tupac. So I grew up around all different types of music. For me, personally in my production journey, I get a lot of influence from jazz and gospel. Specifically, it’s because of the structure and type of chord progressions.
I was in marching band through high school and college. I have a music minor. It’s understanding music on a complex level. Jazz or even gospel, they resonate with me and it shows in my music. Unfortunately, with a lot of labels, it turns them off because it’s not standard, consumable music. Dance music is formulaic in a way where, if you deviate too far from that standard, it can be tough. So, in my own personal journey, I’m balancing my inspirations and influences with trying to exist within this world of deep or progressive house, and it’s a tough go.
I noticed that about the bass scene, but it’s not just confined to that. I’ve seen posts from artists who are like, “Hey, if I’m on the ground, don’t talk to me.” I don’t think it’s like, “I’m too good to talk to you.” So I think they just want some space to enjoy, and it’s hard to do that. But speaking of space, I want to go to something that’s been a thread in a lot of the recent conversations I’ve had, and that’s that everyone I’ve talked to had some sort of paradigm shift during the pandemic. So, how did the pandemic impact your career?
Well, I think that first big Purified release steered me in the direction of producing more of that style. I was doing the more melodic prog, which was the more summery type of progressive. Funnily enough, I’ve been trying to get back on the label, and I haven’t been able to. But I think they like what they’re doing. They had me DJ the Purified show last year, and I think it’s important to note that just because a label isn’t signing you, doesn’t mean they’re not enjoying what you’re doing. It just may not be right for what they’re trying to accomplish.
I don’t know where my career would be without the pandemic, but it put a shift on my perspective that said—“Hey, I might be able to actually do something with this music thing.” It was a definite shift in my mindset. After that release in 2020, it’s been a matter of putting in the work. That’s how I like to look at it, anyway.
So, for big shows, do you plan your set?
For big shows, yeah. Definitely. But I think that’s kind of common. Some of the DJs would knock that. But I was an open-format, college bar DJ for five years. I know how to do that. For a show like this, I think it’s important to nail it. And part of that is taking people on a journey. How do I want that to look? If you go in with a journey in mind, you set yourself up for success.
That’s not to say I won’t have moments where I’m thinking—“I don’t think they’ll feel this next track.” So I have maybe 10 to 15 tracks that I put at the end of my crate that I can cue up. So, for shows like this, definitely a planned set. For something like Beacon, or 1134, I know what the vibe is. And it’s fun. I can generally wing it and have it come pretty easily. I can do the thing!
In the studio, too, for sure. Do you focus on one or the other? I’m finding that is a pretty common thing, that there’s too much involved in performing and producing to go 100 percent on both. It seems it has to come in waves.
Yeah, I’m doing a lot of studio time recently. It helps me focus on where I want my musical direction. I’ve taken a step back from shows—I was trying to play two shows a month. I’m transitioning to a new talent agency with the goal to play more outside of Denver. So, that gives me time to focus on the studio. I love local shows, but for the moment in my career, I need to spend more time in the studio honing my sound, and then playing those shows that boost my career.
So, what are some of those goals?
I mean, Red Rocks is obviously a goal. The Gorge is a dream.
My first concert was the Gorge! It was Dave Matthews Band. I was fourteen.
It’s a dream venue! But I think the prospect of being a headlining, touring artist—that’s always been the goal, but when I sit down and think about that that means for my life, I get a little bit overwhelmed thinking about it. Ut takes over, for sure—it can be quite a commitment. I’ve been a performer my whole life in some way, shape, or form. So DJing and production was a way for me to continue that. I was in marching band, doing halftime shows, but like—what happens when I get out of college? What am I going to do? That’s kind of how this career took shape.
My friends who are touring are normal, fun-loving people. Like, Wassu—he’s a homie, and he’s like “Oh, by the way, I’m going to India next week.” And being around those types of people are really, really inspiring. So, being able to tour the world and playing my music to people who enjoy it is the ultimate goal, really. And sharing those moments with people who I care about the biggest thing.
Check out Discognition with a three-hour Treehouse set at Larimer Lounge on December 23, and keep an eye open for “All of Me,” out December 29 on Enormous Chills.
